A/N: So…this ending. I'm so, so, so, SO sorry I took so long to update it. I never forgot about you guys. Life just gets a little mad sometimes.

Now, you might hate me a little bit for the way I've finished this. I understand completely; I hate myself a little bit too. Believe me, I really did try to do something else. I outlined about four different ending scenarios. But this is the one that made the most sense with the plot and the characters. And when a story wants to go a certain way, it is my job to stop fighting and listen.

I'm warning you now – the chapter is a bit upsetting. There is some intense stuff ahead. On Tumblr, they call this a trigger warning. So if you can't handle violence/death, then please don't read on. You've been warned.

Also, random: we're pretending this happened instead of S3 for the sake of timeline, so Vance is not present here. It's not a mistake. Just so you know.

So, this is the finale. I hope you guys like it; I hope I did you proud. Cheers. xx

Chapter V

For the first ten minutes of the ride home, Gibbs is on his cell phone, speeding through traffic to a chorus of car horns and calling each member of the team personally, to let them know that Tony is safe. Abby first (mostly likely, she had worried the most), then McGee, then Ducky. He then calls Director Shepard, tells her the news too. When he is finally finished with the calls, he lapses into his usual silence, his driving slightly less manic but still dangerous enough that Tony winces at every reckless turn.

The quiet of the car leaves him plenty of time to think.

After so many days of living in the forest, spending all of his time with Ziva, isolated and insulated from the world, it is harsh and strange being in the van and rushing back to his building, surrounded by soft, tantalizing humans, the structures of civilization looming over him. He had almost forgotten there was this sprawling metropolis so near his little forest in Norfolk. He never thought he would have been allowed back.

Tony and Gibbs go upstairs to the office, where Tony has worked all these years, and everything is so miraculously the same. McGee, Ducky and Abby are waiting for him when he arrives; Abby launches herself at him first, her arms around his neck, giving him such a tight hug that in human form, he likely would have fallen over, winded. As it is, he stands firm as Abby hugs him to her heart's content, repeating over and over, "I'm so glad you're all right, Tony, we've missed you."

He physically pries Abby off his person to hug Ducky, and then McGee. It's like hugging fragile plush toys; their bones seem so easy to snap, covered only with a few layers of softness. The fact that he notices this puts him a little on edge. He is pleased to see them, of course he is, but he remembers now why vampires don't even want to mix with humans. They are so different. His entire make-up has changed, and he doesn't know if he can still fit in this human labyrinth.

"Tony, what's going on here?" Abby asks, grinning, poking his arm. "Where've you been and what have you been doing to get biceps like that? I swear, it's like you're all muscle!"

"Yeah, I noticed that too," says McGee. "And what's with your eyes, Tony? Did you get hurt?"

"My goodness, Tony, you're freezing," says Ducky. "Are you sure you're quite all right?"

Tony sighs. They'll have to find out sooner or later; might as well just tell them now. "Well, about that…"

Ducky is flabbergasted. McGee thinks he's joking. Abby is horrified but also intrigued, as Tony knew she would be. The side of her that puts all her faith in science refuses to believe that Tony is an actual vampire. Those don't exist. Yet the side of her that loves the supernatural is over the moon with curiosity.

Tony allows Ducky to give him a preliminary check-over, to make sure he is healthy, but then Abby drags Tony to her lab where, for the better part of three days, she runs every test she can think of on him, and bombards him with an avalanche of questions.

It's just as well, since he doesn't have any work to do. Gibbs isn't putting him in the field yet. He is still talking to the director, trying to figure out what to do with his senior field agent.

So Tony hangs out mostly in Abby's lab, as she fights to understand the science behind his condition.

She shows him a virtual version of his DNA, which is almost the same as his regular DNA – hence why he remains the same person – but there is an extra set of genes inserted into his fifth chromosome, and it is these that have changed him.

Abby analyzes his vampire venom – which initially blows up her mass spectrometer, causes a chemical fire in the lab, puts the whole building on lockdown and takes several hours to subside – and tests its properties in every non-mechanical way she knows. There are moments when she is quiet, preternaturally focused, and others when she is her usual chattering, distractible self. She slurps down double her usual intake of Caff-Pow and surrounds herself with charts and print-outs and notes, all of which are unintelligible to Tony.

After several experiments – some of which cause more fires – Abby determines that the vampire venom contains, among other things, a special type of virus, which gets into Tony's DNA and inserts the new vampire DNA. The genes are regulated by the venom itself, which still remains in Tony's system. Any more of it, and it would overwhelm his human immune system, which would turn on itself and kill him. This explains why Ziva knows to bite a certain amount when killing, or transforming, her victims.

When she's done with her tests, she asks him if she can write a paper on him. He immediately tells her not to; this is going to be their secret. No one else can know about the existence of vampires. It cannot be good for anyone. While disappointed, Abby nods, understanding.

Once she has finished with her preliminary tests on Tony, Gibbs comes down to the lab – as usual, his timing eerie, even for a vampire. He tells Tony he has some news.

Director Shepard and Gibbs had thought long and hard about what to do with Tony. Director Shepard has clearance from Abby that Tony is otherwise healthy, and won't bite every human in sight. Gibbs vouches that personality-wise, Tony is the same – and skill-wise, he's actually even better. Director Shepard takes some time to weigh her options, but ultimately signs off.

Tony can remain an NCIS agent – so long as he never lets on his secret, and pretends he is human.

While nervous, now, of attempting his old job in a new body, Tony is relieved. It is more than he had hoped for. Despite the nightmare of the bite, Tony gets his job, his team, his life back. Everything he thought he had lost. He is pleased, and excited, and more than willing to abide by the director's rules.

So the new regime begins.

At night, Tony sleeps little, preferring to hunt. In the morning before work, he slips in colored contacts – Abby helps him find contacts that won't dull his vision with human eye prescriptions – so that his irises are hazel again rather than red. He files his fangs down to human-sized teeth; they keep growing every night, as though not understanding why he wouldn't use his main weapon, but he is careful to ensure they are as normal-looking as possible. He puts on his gear and runs to work; he sells his car, figuring he's faster without it.

Once at work, his duties remain the same, but they become easier. He finds evidence at the scene more quickly than his teammates, spotting or sniffing it out; Gibbs can no longer surprise him when he sails into the bull-pen with news or another case; dirt-bags barely have a chance to turn and run before Tony is in front of them, waiting to cuff them and take them in.

The weeks and months drag on. It is certainly wonderful to be back in the routine of work – it's even better than it used to be, because now he doesn't need to sleep as much, nor does he need coffee to wake himself up in the mornings – and he enjoys the breakneck rhythm of investigative work, same as always.

But of course, there's still something niggling at him.

It's Ziva. Ziva, whom he hasn't seen since the day she ran, and he returned here.

He has only known her a few days, in comparison to the team, whom he has known for many years. Yet he has been so intimate with her the past few days as the unthinkable happened to him, and he misses her. He misses their tryst in the forest, all their talking. He misses her coldness and her firmness. He misses the lazy pace of the forest, where his only responsibility was hunting, and he got to do it with her.

Sometimes, she returns to the D.C. area, tracks him down. She never visits, but he knows when she's around, because she always leaves a small dead animal – a stray dog, a rabbit, a raccoon – on his doorstep, the two bite marks obvious in its flesh. He smiles sadly, and takes them outside to bury them.

After the third animal offering, Tony keeps an eye out for international case files involving victims dead from loss of blood and bite marks. This way, he has an idea of where she is, what she's doing. Occasionally, if she's on the continent, he takes a weekend and runs to her last victim's dump site, hoping to find her.

She's too clever for him; she's always gone before he finds her. But he sees the many beautiful places she has been, and as he explores the scenery, he imagines her wild hair, her silvery laugh, her silent footsteps on this earth.

And for a long time, this is all they have of each other. She wanders and he tries to follow her footsteps; she leaves him gifts and he realizes she had to physically come to his house to leave them there when she knew he wasn't home; he searches for her, the whole planet a potential hidey-hole, and she evades him, unwilling to be found.

Seven months after Tony's transformation, Abby calls him down to her lab.

At first, Tony thinks it's because of some piece of evidence she needs to discuss – he's acting team leader in Gibbs's absence, and Gibbs is currently out interviewing someone with McGee – but when he comes down, there is no physical evidence out on her table and her computer screen definitely doesn't display the contents of the victim's hard-drive. There are graphs and numbers and equations that he can't even hope to understand.

Confused, he asks, "What's up, Abs?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Beaming, Abby grabs his arm and pulls him towards her computer. "I have to show you something."

"What is it?"

She is radiant with pleasure and pride. "A little side project I've been working on."

"Okay?"

His skeptical expression makes her laugh. "Oh, Tony, you are going to be so excited," she assures him, pointing at the screen. "Do you know what all of this is?"

"Umm…science?"

"Well, yes," she says, "but it's not just any science, Tony. It's your science."

She pauses for a beat, waiting expectantly for the flash of understanding. When it doesn't come, she sighs huffily and says, "I've been researching your vampire venom ever since we did those tests—"

"But, wait, didn't you already do those tests? Do I have to do more tests?"

"No! Listen." Abby takes a breath, calms herself, looks him straight in the eye. "Tony, I have been working for the past seven months to make you a cure."

The room goes deadly silent, except the hum of her machines. Abby's smile is coming back, as fear and wonder and reluctant hope light up Tony's eyes.

"You heard me right, DiNozzo," she says. "I think I can make you human again."

"Seriously? Wait, how long have you been sitting on this? How long have you had a cure?"

"Not long," says Abby. "I did the final calculations this morning. I ran a few tests. It's not guaranteed – I mean, it's experimental – but I think I may have something good here. I think this is going to take those vampire genes out of your DNA."

"So what is it?" Tony asks. "A pill, an injection?"

"An injection," says Abby. "One should be enough, but we can do more if necessary."

Tony pulls up a stool and takes a seat, his head whirling.

Isn't this what he wanted from the start? A way back into the human life that had been snatched away from him? His good fortune is overwhelming; everything is working out exactly in his favor. He got to come back to work after he transformed, and now Abby has apparently found a cure. A cure to bring him back to who he used to be.

It's a lot to take in. Abby watches him absorb this new information, rocking back and forth on her enormous spiky platforms, still beaming.

"I didn't tell you earlier because I didn't want to get your hopes up, in case it didn't work out," she says. "This wasn't easy, you know. I'm not even sure it'll work. But…but I think the science and the logic is right, and I think it'll cure you."

"Abby, thank you," he says honestly, fervently. "It's…amazing. You're a miracle worker."

He gets up from the stool, hugs her tight, kisses her cheek. "I'm going to get you a Caff-Pow everyday for the rest of your life," he whispers in her ear, and she just laughs.

"You're a sweetheart. But then, what will Gibbs get me for doing a good job?"

"Fine. I'll get you something else."

"No, you don't have to get me anything." She extracts herself from his embrace, leans against her desk, her smile sweet and good-natured. "I'm just happy that we get you back. The real you."

"Aren't you going to miss knowing a real vampire?" Tony asks.

"A little," she admits. "But I prefer you."

He puts his hand to his heart and pretends to wipe a tear. "Oh, Abs."

She laughs, and says, "Get out of here, Tony, I have to get back to work. Whipping up vampire antidotes is not all I'm here for. Shoo! I'll call you again when I have something."

"You got it, Abs," says Tony, saluting her. "We'll talk later."

"Yup!" She waves good-bye, and turns back to her computer.

That night, as he goes for his usual hunt, he turns Abby's proposal over and over in his head. It is literally unbelievable, that this chance is now an option for him.

Abby is a genius. She is going to give him his life back.

The cosmetic effects of vampirism are certainly enjoyable – he loves the speed, the strength, the clear-headedness, not to mention the new muscles – and yes, they do make him more effective at his job. But he misses his heartbeat, his dulled human senses, which were not bombarded every second with far too much detail. Sometimes it makes his head hurt. He misses eating human food – pizza, beer, coffee – and he misses being the same species as his team. He still feels like he is separated from them as though behind an invisible screen, because he is a vampire and they are human, and this doesn't seem like a divide that will disappear, even with time.

He misses sleeping, and dreaming. He even misses his old emotional range, the way things made him angry or nervous or excited. These feelings are still present in him, which he knows is unusual, but they are muted. He doesn't get to fully participate in human life – and he misses all of it. Even the bad things. Even knowing that his days are numbered, and he has to die someday, face the great unknown. These are all the smaller details of being human – the details that make it worthwhile.

In fact, the only thing he'll miss about being a vampire, besides the petty details of speed and strength, is Ziva.

Ziva, the first thought that popped into his head the moment Abby said the word 'cure.'

He is happy to go back to being a human – if Ziva will come here and do it with him.

But for that, he has to find her first.

As the days go by, Abby prepares the antidote and asks Tony when he would like to have the injection. He tells her that he has a job to do; it'll take a few days, but when he gets back, he wants the cure right away. He won't do it without Ziva; he just won't.

The police files Tony has been tracking suggest that Ziva is currently in Mexico, terrorizing small towns near the Pacific coast, who guard themselves with crosses and garlic that Tony knows will do nothing to protect them. He takes a couple of vacation days and heads out there after the first few attacks are reported, tries to see if he can find her. He puts on his usual human disguises so that he can wander the country unsuspected. He runs, of course, because it's so much faster – but also because it's a relief. Though he hunts every night, gets to stretch out his legs a little bit, it's nothing like it was when he first transformed, when he could run as fast and as far as he liked, push his limits. The world felt smaller, full of possibilities. He relishes the chance to feel that way again, run uninterrupted all the way through the southern United States and into Mexico.

The first night he arrives, he searches the coast and finds a forest that Ziva is most likely using as a base. It's close to all the towns she has hit, and the wildlife is abundant, providing her plenty of blood. He runs patrols around the forest, his ears pricked for any signs of her movement.

Three hours later, he gets lucky. He hears a rustling in the trees, and instinct tells him that it's her. He keeps his movements as quiet as possible and approaches the tree, searching for her scent, the rustling of the leaves that may betray her location.

He finds her at the edge of the forest, sitting in one of the highest branches of the tallest tree, polishing off a limb of what appears to be her latest victim. He can hear her teeth against the bone, her tongue searching for the last morsel of edible flesh.

The sight is so endearingly familiar that he can't help but shake his head, chuckle inwardly. He has missed her so much.

She hears him climb up, and her face, too, lights up in a smile as he settles in the branches beside her.

"Hey," he says.

"Hello." She puts the head of the bone in her mouth, sucking on it as she drinks in all his details – his pale skin, his clothes reeking of human contact, the dulled down fangs, the flimsy contacts in his eyes trying to mask the blood-red of his irises. "I see you have found me."

"It wasn't easy."

"Good." She grins, and he is reminded how proper vampire fangs look, so sharp and sinister in the moonlight.

"Look, Ziva, I had to find you. I have to tell you something."

"Oh, you missed me? I'm touched," she purrs.

He ignores that. "Do you remember how I told you about the people I worked with at NCIS?"

"I think I do."

"Well, our forensic scientist – her name is Abby – do you remember me telling you about her?"

"Of course!" says Ziva, grinning even more widely. "She is the one that loves vampires."

"Yes. That's right. Now, Abby is an absolute genius. When I went back to NCIS, she ran a bunch of tests on me, and she used the vampire venom in order to come up with a cure. An antidote to vampirism." He pauses, letting the words sink into her. "Ziva…we could be human again."

"Human?" Far from being awed and excited, as he had been, Ziva simply snorts, rolls her eyes at him like he's made a bad joke. "Why would I want to be human?"

"Why wouldn't you want to be human?" he asks, slightly offended.

"Humans plunder and consume the Earth. They die after only a few years. They are slow and they are stupid," she says. "They let their pettiest emotions rule their lives. Why would I choose to be so weak? Why would I want that when I am what I am?"

"It's boring," Tony insists. "It's lonely."

"You have been a human-lover from the beginning," says Ziva. "I am glad that your Abby has found you a cure. Go and use it. But do not expect me to make the same foolhardy decision."

"Ziva—"

"I am satisfied with my life. And not only is it preferable to be a vampire, you don't even know if the cure works. Are you willing to take that risk, just to be human?"

"Yes," Tony says simply. "I want to be human again. I want to get my old life back."

"If there is one thing I have observed, both as a human and as a vampire, it is that you cannot go backward," she says. "You must go forward."

Tony sighs, seeing that this conversation is going nowhere. He finds himself disappointed – though, admittedly, his expectations had been a little high. It wasn't fair of him to assume that he could turn up here and tell her about the cure and have her come sprinting back to NCIS with him to get it.

Vampirism is her only identity. She is comfortable in it. She doesn't want to give it up. She enjoys it in a way he never has. She would never do this and he shouldn't have wasted his time trying to force her to.

But the fact remains – he has missed her. He never stopped. He wants her in his life again.

So he runs his hand through his hair, and says, "Fine. I get that this is what you want. But can you do me one favor?"

"What?"

"Will you come back with me while I do the cure?"

The irrepressible red gleams from behind his contacts. He fixes her with a stare of such pathos, like he genuinely does need her to do this for him, that she finds herself relenting. She did miss him too, after all.

"Fine," she allows. "I will come with you."

From the beseeching puppy-dog stare, he returns to full radiance. "Thank you."

"Are we going back tonight?"

"Yes."

"All right." Ziva tosses the bone she had been munching out of the tree. It lands on the ground with a soft thud. "Then let's go."

"Out of curiosity, was that a human leg you were eating?"

She laughs as she jumps off the tree, lands on the ground far too lightly on all fours. He lands beside her and she turns her impish smile on him, eyes flashing.

"Actually, it was not," she admits. "It was a bear."

"A bear? Not a human?" He gives her a round of applause. "Good job, Ziva. I'm so proud of you."

"I've been on a diet," she acknowledges.

"Awww, Ziva! You missed me!"

"Of course not."

He is beaming, practically jumping up and down on the balls of his feet with excitement. "You missed me, Ziva! You're dieting just for me! I'm so flattered."

"Narcissist."

"Liar."

She raises her eyebrow, her hands on her hips in challenge – but he just does a little victory dance, smiling and smiling. He's like a small child in moments like these. An affectionate smile reluctantly finds its way to her mouth, but then she asks, "So are we going or not?" and he says, "Yeah, yeah, of course. Let's go."

"To NCIS?"

"Yeah. You know where it is?"

"Please do not insult my intelligence."

"Ouch. Cranky."

She rolls her eyes. "Come on. Let's go."

"Race you there?"

"Please. It would not be fair to you."

"I take that challenge!"

"If you insist."

And then she's off, zooming towards the star-littered horizon, almost like she's flying, the world hers to take. And he takes off right behind her, determined to catch up.

The race is close, but Ziva wins. She arrives at the front door of NCIS a fraction of a second before he does, and she refuses to let him forget it.

They bicker a little, but Tony is more interested in showing Ziva his building, his whole world. Ziva insists that government buildings are all the same everywhere, but she still looks around with some interest, trying to put images to the stories he told of this place he loves so dearly. The team had not expected him back yet, so Gibbs and McGee are out, probably doing interviews. The bull-pen is empty. He takes her there, shows her his desk, Gibbs's desk, McGee's desk.

Ziva strolls by each, noting the decorations, the personal touches. Tony's Mighty Mouse stapler and trinkets, McGee's technical manuals and hand-scribbled notes, Gibbs's neatly-aligned stationary and his few pictures. Then she arrives at the last desk, the empty one across from Tony's, which no one appears to be using.

"Who sits here?" Ziva asks.

She takes a seat in the chair before Tony can say anything, taking in the view of the other three desks. Tony hesitates before answering, a pang going through his chest.

"That's…that's Kate's old desk," he says softly.

"Oh, right. Kate." Even Ziva, the proud owner of no emotions, looks slightly uncomfortable. "I am…sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. We probably should get to replacing her anyway. It's been a year, almost." He clears his throat. "I guess it's about time we fill the empty desk."

She says nothing. This is not her area of expertise – loss, grief, that quietly desolate look on Tony's face, the one that means he is holding back more than he will ever let on. She simply gets up from the desk and asks, perhaps too loudly, where Abby's lab is. Tony snaps back into his senses and gestures down the hall.

They go downstairs together, not speaking. There just doesn't seem to be anything worth saying. They arrive at the door of Abby's lab, the metal music blaring even from here. Ziva wrinkles her nose.

"Is somebody dying in there?" she asks. "If so, am I allowed to have the blood?"

He smirks. "No, Ziva, that's death metal. It's music."

"I may be a vampire, but I know what music is, Tony, and it does not sound like that."

"In Abby's world, it does." Smirking slightly, Tony opens the door and the music greets them as a wall of sound. "Hey, Abby! Surprise, I'm back!"

"Tony!" Abby whirls around and crashes into him with an enormous hug. "Yay, you are back! We hadn't been expecting you for a few days!"

She clings to him for a few seconds longer, her scent – like flowers and Caff-Pow – overwhelming. When she lets him go, she then focuses her attention on his guest.

Abby and Ziva both look one another over – Ziva noting Abby's teetering heels, her pigtails, her black lipstick and the dog collar, her printed t-shirt (fittingly) displaying a bat with fangs, and Abby noting Ziva's pale skin, fangs, red eyes, obvious muscles, all just like Tony's.

Ziva doesn't seem to know how to react to someone like Abby. If left to her own devices, she would probably bite Abby, take her blood, and leave, as she has done to so many before her. But she is Tony's co-worker and friend; Ziva is not allowed to drink this woman's blood. So she stands still, watching Abby, wondering how she will react to someone like Ziva.

Abby approaches Ziva slowly, her eyes wide and round like coins. Like a curious child, she gently touches Ziva's shoulder, feeling the ice of her skin. She stares directly into Ziva's red irises, examines her fangs and her wildly curly hair, apparently fascinated.

"I can't believe I officially know two vampires," says Abby at last. "You're Ziva, right?"

"Yes."

"Tony's told us a lot about you. He's also the reason our boss hasn't already taken you in cuffs and dropped you in a prison cell."

Ziva just smiles a cold, polite, disbelieving smile. Abby chooses to ignore it.

"Anyway, it's nice to finally meet you. Did Tony tell you about the cure? Do you want it too?"

"No, I do not."

To Ziva's surprise, Abby nods, as though this is a fair response.

"I understand," she says. "Being a vampire must be wicked cool."

"It isn't," says Tony shortly. "Not all the time."

"Well, neither is being human," Abby points out. "Anyway. If you don't want the cure, Ziva, why are you here?"

"Tony asked me to come."

"Oh, as moral support?" Abby puts a hand to her heart and sighs. "That's adorable. Vampire love!"

Tony and Ziva exchange glances, and hastily, both correct her: "No, no, it's nothing like that."

"I admit, I'm hoping that once she sees me become human again, she'll take the cure too," says Tony.

"While unlikely, I do not object to doing a favor," says Ziva.

"Right. Of course." Abby gives an enormous wink, then busies herself with a vial full of clear liquid. She takes a syringe and fills it up to about a quarter of its capacity, flicks it with her black fingernails to make sure it's sound and ready.

"Okay, so this shouldn't take long," explains Abby. "According to my calculations, it will take about three minutes after injection for the effects to start taking place. You should be fully yourself within a couple of hours. We can wait for Gibbs and McGee to come back – they won't be long, I don't think – or we can do it now. Whatever you want to do."

"Ummm…" Tony considers. "Well…I mean, I don't really need a huge audience for this…I'll just surprise Gibbs and McGee when they come back."

Abby nods. "Okay. Roll up your sleeve, Tony."

Tony obliges, and Abby brings the syringe closer. There it is, in her hand – the answer to his conundrum. In a matter of minutes, he gets to be human again. He never really believed in miracles, but this – this liquid in Abby's hand is a miracle.

Ziva is quiet, watching the proceedings. She distrusts these strange inventions of humans, their complicated, selfish manipulations of nature. Even if she did want to be human, she would not trust a synthesized chemical – one that looks like water, if she didn't know better – to do the job.

Abby locates a vein in Tony's arm, and pushes the syringe beneath his skin. It takes some effort – his skin is vampire skin after all – but she gets it in, and the spot seems to fizz. Instinctively, his free hand reaches out, finds Ziva's hand, and clutches it tightly. She looks down, surprised, but he inhales sharply, his eyes wide with something that looks suspiciously like panic.

"Tony? Tony, are you all right?" Abby is immediately concerned. She takes the syringe out of his arm and sets it on the desk, and examines the spot where the syringe went in. The entrance site has turned a brilliant, poisonous-looking purple.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Tony asks in an undertone.

"I don't know," says Abby, biting her lip. "I just…I don't know. We'll have to watch it. How do you feel?"

It's a simple question with a complicated answer. Honestly, Tony doesn't know how he feels. The fizzing has stopped, and he can feel the liquid, searing hot and bubbly, in his veins. His stomach is tight and a little bit nauseous; he feels hot and cold and lightheaded all at once. His head is aching, like there has been an earthquake in his neurons and his brain is bouncing around in his skull from the impact. Ziva can feel his hand shake against her palm. Instinctively, she clutches him tighter, as though to stop the shaking, stop the effect of this stupid "cure" he's taken.

He's starting to look nervous now. He's shaking, sweating like he has a fever. This in and of itself is bizarre, since he is a vampire and has no bodily fluids. Abby grabs a tissue and wipes his forehead, sniffs the liquid.

"That's definitely sweat, Tony," she says. "I think it's working."

"We'll see," he manages to choke, as he races off the stool and vomits into the garbage can in the corner of her lab. Abby and Ziva rush over, Abby holding a vial in which to collect some of the vomit. It's a dark, muddy red – nothing solid. Abby puts a few drops of the vomit onto her microscope and inspects the material.

"It looks like blood cells," says Abby. "Tony, I really think it's working. This is probably all the animal blood that had been in your system. Your body is trying to get rid of it."

Tony responds with another wave of vomit, coughing and spluttering. Ziva silently fetches him a napkin, which he gratefully uses to wipe his mouth. Though he is still paler than he was in human form, his cheeks are regaining some of their old color; his eyes are only a muted red; he's already looking smaller, less muscular.

Abby's right. This is working. Tony is suddenly craving pizza, not human blood.

"I can't believe you single-handedly created a cure for vampirism, Abs," says Tony weakly, leaning on Ziva for support as he stumbles back to his stool. "I'm sorry you're not allowed to publish. You'd make a killing."

"It's not about the money, Tony," says Abby, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm just glad you're back. Can I call Ducky and Gibbs and tell them?"

"Be my guest," says Tony.

Gibbs and McGee come tearing back to the lab a half hour later – Gibbs as gruff and impatient as ever, McGee a little bemused and disheveled. He explains quietly to Abby that when Gibbs got the call, he drove through four red lights, almost caused five accidents, and broke at least fourteen road rules in order to get here as fast as possible.

"How are you doing, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asks at once, looking him up and down with his X-ray eyes.

"I've been better, boss," admits Tony. "I must have barfed, like, a gallon of blood in the past hour. But I think it's working. I'm sweating, see?" He points to his forehead, which is indeed beaded with sweat.

"He has been doing very well, Jethro," says Ducky approvingly. He was the first one Abby called, since he was already in the building, and he came down to the lab immediately, and began to track Tony's physical progress. "His system is currently flushing out his toxins. It is uncomfortable, but Anthony is holding up quite bravely."

Gibbs's smile is small, cautious, but warm. "I'm happy for you, DiNozzo. Good to have you back." He claps his senior field agent on the back, apparently satisfied.

"Tony isn't the only surprise we have for you, Gibbs," announces Abby. "Have you met…Ziva?"

The door to the second room of Abby's lab opens, revealing Ziva, who is sipping something red from one of Abby's Halloween mugs.

"She was getting hungry, so she went hunting," Abby explains. "I sent her with a mug so she could come back here right away."

"Ziva." Gibbs says the name with obvious displeasure, remembering that she is the serial killer that Tony wouldn't let him arrest. But McGee is much more interested; his eyes, like Abby's, go wide and round at the sight of her.

"You're Ziva?" he asks.

"Evidently," she says coolly, taking another sip of her blood.

"I'm—"

"McGee, I know." She smiles, her fangs looking particularly menacing with the background of Abby's usual death metal music, and puts her hand out to shake. Cautiously, McGee shakes it, unable to tear his eyes off of her. There is something beautiful and brutal about her teeth, her merciless red eyes – so unlike Tony's in everything but color – and the mug of human blood in her hand.

"Tony's doing pretty well," Abby tells Gibbs and McGee. "I've been monitoring him ever since I gave him the injection. It's taking a bit longer than I thought it would, but I think by tomorrow, he'll be fully himself again."

"That's great! Congratulations, Tony," says McGee, beaming.

"Thanks, probie." Tony smiles his lazy smile. "I can't wait to actually sleep a full night. And eat real food. And drink coffee."

"I don't think you should take it too fast," warns Abby. "Let's give it a few days before we get you back to eating solids. Stick to water and saltines for now."

"Better than blood!" says Tony, and the humans – Gibbs, Ducky, McGee and Abby – laugh, but Ziva remains steely-eyed. It has been a long time since she has been in such close proximity to so many humans at once; she yearns to bite them, any of them, all of them. The warmth and freshness of their blood attracts her far more than the thin blood she collected from a fawn nearby. Abby had insisted that she return within fifteen minutes, because Tony was not to be without her (ignoring, of course, the fact that Tony had regained the ability to blush and was trying futilely to tell Ziva to take as long as she wanted).

The fawn blood is scraps; she wants a meal. It takes all her self-restraint not to blitz-attack all four of them, slit their throats with her teeth and gorge on the waterfall of blood.

She tries to clear her head of these cravings and tune back into the conversation – which is about how Tony is going to spend the rest of his day.

All four humans agree that Tony should go home and take the rest of the day for himself. Tony disagrees; though he is still clearly feeling very ill, he wants to stay because he'll get bored at home. Abby fusses about webcams and virtual check-ins every half hour; Ducky assures him that he will visit after work and make sure he is medically stable; McGee tells him to get some rest and he'll come over to watch movies together after work; Gibbs simply said, "Go, we've got it covered here."

Finally, Ziva says, "I can stay with him and let you know if anything happens."

All four heads turn to stare blankly at her.

"What?" she asks, irritated. "Don't you trust me?"

Abby is the only one brave enough to break the thick, horrible silence and say, "Well…you were the one to bite him in the first place, right?"

"To save his life!" Ziva snaps. "The coyote was ready to eat him alive. It had already started when I found him."

"That's fine," says Tony. "I'll go back with Ziva. She'll call if we need you."

Gibbs is evidently displeased with this suggestion. "You sure, DiNozzo?" he asks, glancing sideways at Ziva and the mug of blood she is still holding.

"Yes, I'm sure," says Tony.

Ziva is a vampire with better-than-perfect vision; of course she can see all the petty emotions written all over their faces. They are worried that she will bite him again, or kill him, or run away and leave him to die. They are intrigued by her, but they don't trust her; she's the serial killer they chased for two weeks, and she drinks human blood for sustenance. They don't want her near their so recently healed Tony. They don't even know why she's here now, except that for some reason Tony seems very attached to her. He's probably deluded. This woman is dangerous at best, psychotic at worst.

She is a vampire. Of course they cannot trust what they do not know, and her reputation precedes her.

But she knows better than they do. So she says, "Come, Tony," and steadies him easily with one hand around his shoulder.

"Bye," says Tony, smiling feebly and waving good-bye. "I'll keep you guys updated."

The team says their good-byes and waves as he and Ziva leave Abby's lab. The last thing Tony hears before the lab door closes is Gibbs's low voice, prominent amidst the group despite its softness: "Be safe, DiNozzo."

When Tony and Ziva arrive outside to the weak, late-afternoon sun, she turns to him and asks, "Can you run?"

"Not anymore," he says. "My legs feel like jelly."

"Do you have your car?"

"No."

"Can I steal one?"

He shoots her a Look. "I'm a federal agent, Ziva. No, you can't steal a car."

She sighs irritably. "You are really tying my hands here."

"I can call a cab," he says, searching his pocket for his cell phone.

"Do not be such a human," scoffs Ziva. "Come. I will take you."

He eyes her with unease. "How?"

"I'll run us both to your place," she says.

"Wait, by carrying me?"

"How else am I supposed to take you? Unless Abby's mixture gave you the ability to fly?"

He rolls his eyes at her, but he's blushing, the color startling to her after his vampire pallor. "I'm not letting you carry me anywhere."

"Do not be such a baby," says Ziva, mischief glinting in her eyes now. "It will not make you less of a man if I carry you on my back."

"Do you even hear yourself?"

"Five minutes and it will be over. Come on."

Blushing deep red, Tony's expression darkens and he heeds her command. Though she is physically much smaller than he is, she has no trouble hoisting him up on her back. He wraps his arms self-consciously around her neck, hitches his legs on her sides, and closes his eyes, as she takes off running and he clings on for dear life.

He never realized, as a vampire, how fast he was truly going when he ran. Ziva is barely exerting herself, yet they are a blur, their velocity exceeding that of the cars, maybe even the airplanes. She is true to her word – they arrive at his place in five minutes flat – and then she lets him off, lets him hold her arm for support as he dismounts and takes her inside his apartment.

His home is small, but cozy and obviously well-loved. He has an elaborate set-up for his movies, including a large plasma-screen television and bookshelves full of movies. It smells vaguely of sweaty socks and pizza and the smell she used to find in his neck when they spent all their time in the Norfolk forest – something sharp and musky and a little bit sweet.

He wobbles to the couch and relaxes into it, his mouth open and his eyes closed, as though this is truly bliss on Earth. She chuckles and busies herself in the kitchen with the teapot. She makes him a cup of mint tea – something she used to drink when she was human – and brings it to him on the couch. At the smell, his eyes open, and he beams at the sight of it.

"Thanks, Ziva," he says, accepting the tea and taking a sip.

"It is the best I could do with the limited supply of your fridge," she remarks.

"Yeah. Well. You're lucky I had even that; I haven't bought food in months. I only went a few days ago so that I would have a bit of stuff for whenever Abby changed me back."

"You really are excited to be human again, aren't you." It isn't a question; it's a statement of fact.

"I am," says Tony. "I wish you'd do it too. I think you'd like being human again."

Her smile is wry and a little sad. "I don't think so. Not the way you do."

"You haven't even tried it."

"Sometimes, you just know."

He is so small and frail beside her on the couch as his eyes flicker shut again. He's exhausted from the transformation, but it's more than that. It's the cure, the humanness returning to him. He is a plush-toy along with the rest of humanity, his defenses meager, his bones brittle. He is amongst the creatures she eats without a thought. He is not the Tony she transformed, the Tony she missed, the Tony with whom she rediscovered her sensuality.

Tony doesn't attract her anymore. He is a human. A remarkable one, certainly, but just a human. She craves only his blood.

He falls asleep pretty quickly, his breathing slowing down and his limbs going completely loose, his tea sitting on the table, barely drunk. She leaves it there, in case he wants it later, and unearths a spare blanket from inside a closet in the bathroom. She throws it over him and there he sleeps, mouth wide open, a little drool collecting on his chin. Totally helpless. So…mortal.

She wants to hunt, but she had promised him – and his team – that she wouldn't leave him. So she finds a book in his room and sits down beside him, reading it and glancing over at him every few seconds to make sure his sleep remains undisturbed. The apartment is totally still, silent, as isolated from the world as their forest used to be.

She settles in for what she is sure will be a long, long night.

When she is forty pages into the book, he starts to snore.

When she is fifty-five pages in, his body seems to feel her presence, and his head falls onto her shoulder. His skin is so warm against her shoulder; she feels the snuffles of his breathing, the small flecks of drool.

If any – any – other creature dared to drool on her this way, she would have their neck snapped and their blood in her throat before they could even process her displeasure.

The nightmare begins when she is one hundred and twenty-eight pages into the book.

Tony's breath on her shoulder – up until now, a steady rhythm – begins to get shallow, erratic. Immediately, Ziva closes the book and negotiates his head up from her shoulder and against the back of the couch. His skin is warm against hers – but because she is a vampire, and has forgotten what regular human warmth feels like, she hadn't realized that he was warmer than he should be.

He has a fever. His breathing has gone funny. She begins shaking him awake, saying his name over and over and over again, but his shoulders are limp and he is in and out of consciousness.

"Tony, can you hear me?" Ziva practically screams at him, and all he can do is mumble something incoherently.

Ziva snatches the cell phone out of his pocket and calls Ducky, then Abby, then Gibbs and McGee. They are all on their way over. In the meantime, Ziva tries her best to rouse Tony, get him coherent and talking.

"Tony, Tony, are you listening? The team is coming. We're going to take care of you. What is happening? Can you tell me what you feel?" she demands.

"I…dunno…"

"Tony. Tony, just look at me."

He tries, he does. He fights to open his now fully hazel eyes and focus them on Ziva's red ones. But he begins to dry-heave, and Ziva runs to the kitchen, grabs the trash can and brings it over to him. He keeps dry-heaving into it, unable to bring up any blood, any liquid, anything at all. He just coughs, his body shaking all over, his skin tomato-red.

"Tony?"

He tries to say words, but his tongue is too thick and slippery and nothing is coming out. He's burning up; his temperature seems to be rising by the minute. He keeps coughing, dry-heaving, and still nothing comes. Ziva is on the verge of panic.

"Tony, stay with me," she says. "Tony, Tony, can you hear me?"

He tries one more time to look at her, really look at her, as lucidly as he can muster. And when he does, he leans in, kisses her sloppily on the lips, his feverish heat clashing wildly with her iciness.

She breaks the kiss, holds his hot face in her cold hands. "Tony, you cannot do this," she practically orders him. "Stay with me."

"I—I'mgonna—d-die—"

"No, you will not die," she shouts at him. "Do you understand me? You will not die."

Somehow, he has the gall to smile faintly.

"Only boss t-told me—plague—dying t-then too—"

"Stop it. You won't die."

He's still smiling, shaking his head slightly.

"Tony. Tony, stay with me. Stay with me, Tony."

But he's not. She's losing him. She's shaking him and shaking him, but he's like a rag doll, his head lolling dangerously on his neck. Fortunately, at this moment, Gibbs doesn't bother knocking and simply breaks down the door, McGee and Ducky and Abby in tow. They are all disheveled, still in work clothes, and worried sick.

"He was sleeping, and then he started breathing strangely, and he has this fever—" Ziva tries to explain, but Gibbs pushes her out of the way, firmly but not unkindly. He sits on one side of Tony, and Abby sits on the other, wringing his hand and stammering his name repeatedly like an incantation, and Ducky kneels on the floor in front of Tony. Ducky alone remains calm, deadly calm, like the logical man of science that he is.

Scientists need information to deduce explanations. So Ducky takes Tony's temperature – it has shot up to one hundred and six – and tries to ask him questions about how he feels, where it hurts.

Tony tries to stammer answers, but none are coming. They are all losing him. Ducky opens his medical kit, wipes the sweat off his face, tells Abby and McGee to get more cold towels and ice to cool his body down. Ducky takes Tony's pulse, finds it going too fast, and injects medicine into his veins to slow his heart down.

Gibbs is tense, whispering something low and urgent into Tony's ear – most likely doing what he did when Tony had the plague, telling him he isn't going to die. Abby and McGee arrive with the towels and ice. McGee places them around Tony's face and chest, his hands shaking. Abby paces the room, sometimes flying to Tony's side and clutching his hand, and other times walking around and around in circles, unable to watch.

Ziva is Ducky's assistant, handing him whatever he asks, doing whatever he needs, but she is worried and Ducky is worried, and they can tell that he's not going to make it. Not this time.

Ducky does his best until the very end, but Tony's heart gives out and his eyes close for good and he slumps back on the couch, the life drained out of him.

He is human, but he is dead. He is gone, gone to a place where none of them can ever reach him again.

The group goes silent then, all four of them crowded around Tony. He is still flushed, still warm. He looks like he is simply asleep, resting his body so that he can be up and about tomorrow, bright and funny as ever.

But he won't. He won't. It's too much to bear. Abby buries her face in her hands and flees the room.

Gibbs appears immobilized, simply staring at what was so recently his senior field agent, the one he thought he had gotten back against all the odds. But now, within the space of a year, he has lost Kate and Tony. And Abby is crying in the other room, because she is the one who made the cure that gave him his life back, then took it away. And McGee's mouth opens and closes like a goldfish, unable to process what is happening. And Ducky is packing up his things, slowly, deliberately, unable to even look at the body because then it becomes real, that Tony is dead, that he is now bound for autopsy instead of the bull-pen. And Ziva is simply sitting on the floor, her face frozen in blank shock.

Gibbs takes one look at the group of them, then stands up, team leader to the end, and quietly gives his orders. Ducky, take him out to the car. McGee, go help him. Ducky and McGee obediently carry Tony between them, take him out through the apartment door. There is no gurney to help them; Ducky did not think to bring one, because everyone assumed he would survive the night.

Gibbs has to go to Abby, hug her close, stroke her hair and let her cry and remind her that it wasn't her fault, because everyone knew the risks and went ahead with it anyway. But he is left alone in the living room with Ziva, who still hasn't moved a single muscle since Tony's heart gave out.

He crouches down to her level, catches her demonic red eyes, which now shine with horror. He tells her, "Thanks for calling."

He puts a hand to her frigid shoulder, his hand as warm on her as Tony's was. Pressure builds up in every cell in her body. Gibbs retreats, runs to Abby. Ziva remains on the floor, motionless.

She hears Abby's sobs in the next room, growing in volume as the rumbles of Gibbs's voice grow more and more inaudible. She hears Abby howl, "But it was my fault! I made that stupid, stupid antidote!"

Ziva doesn't belong in this place. She doesn't deserve to sit with them and witness their grief, their unbearable loss. They were his family; they were the ones who loved him. She was just the vampire that ruined everything for him.

Abby is wrong; this is Ziva's fault. Ziva's fault, because yes, she was the one who bit him, and she was also the one who allowed him to believe so wholeheartedly in Abby's cure. Ziva herself had doubted the chemical. She should have told him to wait, to test it in other ways before he put it in his body. She should have told him to just get over his nostalgia, and get used to being a vampire. She should have done something more than sit around watching him get into this mess.

And now he is gone, and Abby is crying, and Gibbs has hardened, and McGee and Ducky have to deal with the now dead body of their co-worker, their friend. This building is not enough to absorb their anguish; the sky is not big enough. These soft, weak little humans have feelings, and God, they feel them.

She hears footsteps. Ducky and McGee returning upstairs. Abby is still crying; Gibbs is still with her. It's time to disappear.

Ziva slips out of the window, jumps down to the sidewalk where as usual, she lands too lightly. The night is cold, too still, too silent. It is maddening to think that the city sleeps while Tony DiNozzo lies dead, well on his way to becoming as cold as she.

Ziva's stomach folds in upon itself, so tight and so painful that she stumbles for a moment. The pressure that had begun to build in the apartment reaches a fever pitch. She has to move, she has to run, she has to go someplace, do something, anything.

So she flees. Lets her legs fly out from under her and take her somewhere. It doesn't matter where. She runs and runs at a blinding rate – faster than she's ever gone, faster even than the night she tried to run away from Tony after their first kiss – and disappears.

There is a funeral for Tony – a large, grand one in Washington D.C. He gets a hero's funeral, complete with the American flag on the handsome mahogany coffin that Ducky picked out. His father goes, arm and arm with a woman half his age wearing a shiny diamond wedding band. Virtually every NCIS agent is present to pay his or her respects. The weather is beautiful, cool but not chilly, the sky simply gray – no obtrusive sunlight, no uncomfortable rain, just a soft, unremarkable gray.

The team is there, all dressed in black. Abby, who has been crying on and off since it happened, her lab silent of all music; Ducky, who has been both subdued and snappy after having to do his second autopsy of a team-member; McGee, who hasn't said more than ten words since his partner died; Gibbs, who has spent more and more time in his basement, keeping his hands compulsively busy and drinking more and more scotch.

Ziva tries to go. She lingers behind the trees to watch a few eulogies, maybe see them lower the coffin into the ground. But ultimately, she can't do it. She can't. Her stomach has become some diseased thing poisoning her abdomen, and she can't seem to do much at all besides take refuge in trees, grab easy kill and drink only the minimum to satiate her hunger.

It is unusual behavior for a vampire, but Ziva is not so frightened by the unusual anymore. Her life has been little else but unusual since the coyote decided to attack Tony DiNozzo seven months ago. His life changed forever that night, but so did Ziva's. She has been slowly unraveling since their first encounter, and now she is all the way undone.

He asked her once, to remember what it was like being human. And now she's remembering. Oh, she is remembering.

It was just like this before she turned. Pain, and grief, and loss. She lived in Israel; loss was a cruel presence in everyone's life there. She grew up with it; it was a part of her DNA. She lost her little sister the day she lost her humanity. Whenever she thought there was nothing more to lose, life surprised her by taking something else away.

When she became a vampire, it was a chance to forget. To live a different life, one in which she got to do the taking, and nothing could be taken from her. And she was fine, she functioned well for many years.

But now she remembers.

And Tony is gone.

It is silent, unshakable agony, existing with this knowledge. Her body shakes, and her veins feel as though they are full of acid, and she can't even run anymore. Her legs simply won't obey her. She is stuck, trapped, in every way she can think of.

She remembers, she remembers.

Is this what it's like, being human? This constant ache, this threat of mortality hanging over her head? Why would Tony have wanted this? Why would he have fought so hard to have it back?

Why did these things happen? Why did he have to take that injection?

She will spend the rest of her eternal life asking herself this question.

She tries, she really does. She tries to live on. Tries to run, wrestle the animals, hunt them and drink the blood and eat the flesh and even the bones. She travels to every continent, every natural wonder. She is a nomad for several days, never staying in one place too long, always looking for the next distraction.

She tries. But her best efforts are not enough.

Two weeks after Tony's death, Ziva finds herself in a forest in California. The restless agony that consumed her body right after it happened has subsided, and left in its absence a vast, inconsolable emptiness. It acts as a black hole, takes all her movement and physical sensations away. She is a numb frozen nugget of carbon-based life, floating along the vibrant quilt of the United States with absolutely nothing to offer.

Sitting in the forest in the dead of night, lying at the base of a tree with so little strength that any old animal could come to her now and chew her up – this is when it happens. When the pressure behind her eyes bursts, and suddenly there is wetness on her face.

Ziva tastes it as it flows down her cheek, and finds that they are tears.

She has been a vampire for ten years, unable to sweat or have a pulse, yet now, on this night, her tears have finally come. The weak, shameful human emotions reach a crescendo, a climax, inside of her, and her body seems to both wither away, and finally blossom, as the coldness she has hid behind for so long gives way to something hot and angry and terribly, terribly sad. And human.

And she cannot stand it.

Furiously, she wipes away the tears, and does the only thing she can think to do: she fells as many trees as quickly and as brutally as she can, and collects them all around her, a colossal mound of wood reaching to the moon. She cuts them hard enough and fast enough to make her muscles complain, viciously enjoying the physical strain of it, like a punishment she roundly deserves.

Then she takes two twigs, sets them alight, and throws them to the center of the pile. She takes several more, makes fire, sends them to the center of the pile as well. Slowly, slowly – and then suddenly all at once – a blaze begins. Fire catches, jumping from one tree trunk to another's branches to another's trunk, gaining speed and heat and fantastic strength.

The wildfire seems to touch the stars within a matter of minutes, as it takes on a life of its own, roaring and rising and swallowing up even the healthy trees that she didn't knock down. It is a mammoth wall of relentless heat.

And Ziva walks calmly, calmly, ever so calmly, right into the blazing hell of the fire's center.

It is hot enough that even her vampire skin and nerve-endings object. It is pain like nothing she has ever felt – yet, it's close, somehow, to how she felt when Tony took his last breath. The fire is as hot as she is cold, and she dares it, dares it to make her warm again.

Vampires are difficult to kill – and she knows this, because she has tried it before, on herself a few times after she turned, and other vampires with whom she has spitefully squabbled on occasion – but this, this might just be enough. This fire looks poised to burn down half the state soon enough; it will certainly burn one single vampire body.

And it's starting to, it's starting to. Her skin is melting. Her bones glow red. The heat seeps inside her, preparing to explode, blast her into a million tiny shards – and she is all right with that tonight.

The moment – her end – is coming. The fire is out of control now, devouring the land, preparing to devour the people. Let it, if it so desires.

She remembers everything.

The fire consumes it all.

A/N: So…umm…yeah.

Well, that's it. There's your ending.

Like I told you before, I tried other routes. I had one in which the cure worked, and Tony convinced Ziva to use it, and they got to live happily ever after. I had one in which Tony and Ziva never really saw one another again, and Ziva would leave Tony the animal carcasses once in a while, and when vampire!Tony outlived the rest of the team, he went back to find Ziva. I had one in which both of them took the cure but Ziva died and Tony lived.

Believe me, there were lots of ways to go here. But Tony was the one who wanted to be human, and Ziva didn't, so this was the only thing that made sense. Tony dies, and Ziva finds her humanity, can't take it, and dies too. She was never all that great at being a human anyway.

So. Now is where I bid you all adieu.

But first I must thank you all – truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you – for sticking this out with me. I know, it's weird, and it got very, very sad at the end there, but I appreciate every one of those reviews, favorites and alerts. I do. You guys are awesome.

Now, go find yourself a box of tissues, cry yourself out for a little while, and I'll do the same, and hopefully next time I post it'll be some nauseatingly happy one-shot to help me get over the pain of this.

Love, love, love to you all. Xx

-Z