She woke slowly trying to orient herself to her surroundings by sound and smell. She knew better than to open her eyes. There was a tube in her throat and pain racked her body from various places. She held perfectly still listening for the sounds of anyone in the room. She heard the hiss of the oxygen in her throat, the ping of a bell somewhere far off, but nothing that led her to believe anyone watched her. Through a practice learned the hard way she kept her heartbeat as even as possible. Her mind raced the way her heart fought to. Silently she tried to put the pieces together of what had happened. In a flash of pain that touched her soul she saw the image of Gibbs lying on the ground in a puddle of blood.

Ever so slowly with the fear of what that image could mean she let her eyes crack open just a bit. Just the faintest hint of light greeted her, that and the hush of the sounds around her led her to believe it was evening or very early morning. A quick survey told her the room was empty so she allowed her eyes to open the slightest bit more. She'd expected to find herself in a hospital, but the walls seemed too warm, too fancy to be any hospital she could recall seeing before. The door to her room was open and she could see what appeared to be an empty nurse's station ahead of her. Taking that as a sign to move quickly, she coughed as quietly as possible to remove the tube from her throat. It was louder than she would have liked and brought with it a wave of pain. For a second it was all she could to lay still and breathe softly through that pain.

After another quick glance to ensure no one had heard her she reached to the IV in the top of her hand and removed it as well. The slight sting of the removal was nothing compared to multitude of stitches she felt pulling and tugging at her insides. She catalogued at least three gunshot wounds, which had received more than adequate care. Moving faster than her pain should have allowed her she crept to the doorway of her room and looked out. She was definitely in a hospital but it seemed a higher end facility. She heard the clink of keys and ducked back into her room. A brief glance showed her a security guard walking from one end of the hall to another. He was tall, fit and seemed to know what he was doing. Had she been at full strength she wouldn't have hesitated to face him instead she remained hidden and hoped he would reverse his steps. Holding herself so perfectly still was taking its toll and she felt a sweat break out on her brow. She wiped her hand on her forehead and found her attention caught by the medical ID on her wrist. She recognized her name, what was most likely a patient ID number and her blood type, but what made her pause was the admittance date. A glance at the calendar on the nurse's station desk and back at the bracelet showed her three days had passed since she'd been admitted.

She shook her head as yet another image of Gibbs falling guns in hand raced through her mind. The urgency to find him, if he was indeed here overwhelmed the pain trying to steal her breath. Finally as she'd hoped the guard found his attention draw by a pretty blond nurse stepping out of a room at the end of the hall. Ziva waited until they'd disappeared in the room before she moved out of the doorway. She shivered slightly in the patient gown and wished for something warmer. That fast, as though fate had decided to smile on her she passed a door labeled "employee lounge" through the window she could see it was empty. Stepping in she was again struck by her lush surroundings. Desks, large TVs, mini closets rather than lockers, still she didn't let her curiosity distract her simply searched until she found a set of plain grey scrubs that looked as though they might fit.

Watching out the window in the door she slipped into them trying not to think about how severe her wounds were. Logically she knew she could be doing more damage by moving like she was but the drive to find Gibbs was unrelenting. Her eyes caught the clock on the wall, the fact it was nearing two am explained the quiet. Stuffing her patient gown in the trash can she looked around for anything that might work as a weapon, spotting a thick leather belt with a wide metal buckle she picked it up and snuck back out the door. Her body screamed at her to rest, to crawl back to her bed instead she moved towards the nurses' station. Files were nowhere to be found, and each computer required a password. There were video monitors but all she saw were three empty rooms. The one she had vacated, one that had clearly been empty for some time and another one that look as though it was in need of a cleaning. She silently bit back her frustration until her hand brushed past a piece of paper lying next to a keyboard. The words had her fighting back bile and physically swallowing a cry of disbelief. Recently written, from the uncapped sharpie lying next to it, the note read Gibbs to Morgue. Her eyes blurred with tears but those too she had to force away, as the sound of footsteps and keys broke into her grief.

Whatever hell she'd stepped into she be damned if she didn't at least get her goodbye. She slipped away from the desk and to the nearest stairwell. Closing the door as quietly as possible she made her way down one flight of stairs before stopping to rest. It didn't seem possible that Gibbs could be gone; her mind couldn't accept that reality. She smacked her head sharply trying to remember how he could have been taken down. Suddenly it hit her in a flurry of memory much like a fast playing slideshow. The shipping containers, the bomb, Gibbs bleeding, holding her as pain tore through her, she almost remembered him talking to her begging her to stay with him but that had to be her mind trying to make sense of it all. Her body began to feel the pain now, every stich, bruise and ache. She moved to open the door to the next floor and found the door wouldn't open. There was a button that if pushed would surely open the door but it was bright red and if she'd been forced to guess it would sound an alarm along with opening the door. She swore and made her way back up the stairs to where she had just come from. Peering in she saw the nurse's desk was still empty; presumably the pretty nurse and security guard were otherwise entertained. She took it as the only other blessing she was likely to get and slipped back onto the floor. Reentering her room she rifled through the drawers till she found two paperclips. Stealthily she walked over to the drug box and picked the lock, her trembling hands made it take longer than she would have liked. Still she'd expected a key code rather than a true lock so she took a calming breath, ignored the pain and grabbed a syringe and after a few seconds of searching the right bottle. Closing the cabinet she slipped back into the room filled the syringe and waited.

She had to force herself not think of Gibb lying in the cold morgue below her or how the hell she could have let him down. Instead she focused on finding her way to him, it was unlikely she would make her way out of this place, not as injured as she was but if she could at least see him one last time she could live with whatever they did to her. After what seemed like forever but was in actuality only ten minutes she heard the jangle of keys again. Drawing on all the strength she had left she waited until the guard would be just outside her door and stepped out. A forceful push on a pressure point on his wrist and the needle just touching the skin of his carotid artery had him freezing in place.

"If you try to fight I will kill you and just take your keys." Ziva almost head-smacked herself knowing it's what she should have done but hadn't been quite clearheaded enough to follow through.

"Wait…hang on."

"You will give me your keys and then you will handcuff yourself to the bed in my room. Do we understand each other? Nod yes or no but do not speak." Ziva led him into her room as he nodded carefully. "Pull out the keys to the cuffs, two fingers." She watched as he did as she asked. "Now throw them toward the corner of the room." Again he did as she asked. Still holding the needle against his neck she shook her head against the sweat that had once again beaded. "Put them on hook them through the side-rail of the bed." Only when he did as she asked to reach down with her free hand and grab the rest of his keys and his gun. "You will speak quietly and only to answer my questions." He nodded. "Which key opens the stairwell?" he pointed and she continued "What floor is the morgue?" She watched him look confused and then heard him speak softly. "sub floor , but…."

Ziva held his gun up, watched him pale. Her hands were visibly shaking and she hated the weakness, she wasn't entirely sure she was going to make it to the stairs let alone all the way down to the morgue. And it had taken too long to get answer from him which meant the nurse was likely back at her station. The man in front of her was likely a party to Gibbs' death somehow. The need to beat him into his own death rode her hard, only her weakness held her back. She fixed him with a hard stare fighting the urge to put a bullet in his head. She took the slightest step back, fighting the physical pain that was far outweighed by the grief tearing through her. In that moment she might have given into any question asked of her just to see him alive and well again. In her hand the gun trembled and she knew a tear traveled down her cheek.

"If I find out you had anything to do with his death, I will find you again." Again she watched confusion cross the guards face followed quickly by fear.

"Wait…you don't understand." Ziva watched the man stop abruptly heard the same footsteps he had and new her time was up. Any chance she'd had of escape was as lost to her as Gibbs.

"Ziva?"

Spiders of disbelief crept along the back of her neck as his voice skittered along her spine. Gun trained on the man in front of her she turned her head ever so slowly. There impossibly was a dead man. Risen from concrete and blood, Gibbs stood in front of her; Dinozzo behind him. In jeans and an NCIS sweatshirt he looked so vibrantly alive that she barely noticed the sling encasing his left arm. Barely, registered the blond nurse stepping up behind them looking terrified by the gun in her hand.

"Jethro…" his name the one she'd never allowed herself to say before this moment whispered past her lips, the disbelief dripping from each letter. She almost faltered but instead steeled her spine waiting for reality to kick in and the mirage that was the man she loved to dissipate.

Gibbs stepped into the room slowly, Ziva was already startled, shaking and shouldn't have even been able to stand. Rushing toward her as he wanted to would only set her off. As he moved he took in her shocked expression. She easily allowed him to take the gun in her hand. He set it on safe and handed it back to Tony. She took a gulping breath and he felt one hand reach out and tentatively touch his jaw. Slowly that same hand slid down his chest until it rested over his heart. For a long moment she held perfectly still and from the force of her gaze directed at him he found he couldn't move.

"You are alive…" Ziva sucked in a deep breath of air nearly dropped to her knees at the pain that sliced through her when every injury in her body flared to life. "But I do not understand. The note it said you were in the Morgue?"

Gibbs watched whatever energy had been sustaining Ziva begin to ebb away, watched her skin pale further than he thought possible and felt her shaking moving his own body. Despite their audience he pulled her into his arms. Drawing her back he seated her with him in one of the large easy chairs in the room. He ignored the man handcuffed to the bed, Tony and the nurse watching them. "I'm alive Ziva. They needed me down in the morgue to do some identification that's all." Motioning to Tony he indicated for him to free the security guard and clear the room. Ziva was hanging by a thread and she wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing her lose the battle she was so desperately fighting.

Finally they were alone and with her head tucked into his chest Gibbs felt the hot burn of her tears against his neck. "I'm confused Gibbs, I do not know what is happening. I do not know where I am, I woke up alone….."

Gibbs cursed to himself, wondering where McGee was. They had all taken turns sitting with Ziva. "You're in a private wing of the hospital Ziva. The director was worried because the cell we took out might not have been alone. They wanted us protected. McGee was with you when I left so I'm not sure why you were alone. Do you remember how we ended up here?"

Ziva knew she needed to move, the pressure on her wounds was painful, showing her weakness to him was equally painful yet the feel of his arms wrapped around her cut through all of it. "Yes….I am sorry I am not handling this well. I thought…" she broke off her words knowing that the heat of the moments before death could lead a man to say things he might not otherwise mean.

Gibbs picked her up holding her far too close for how injured she was and carried her to her bed. After laying her down he took the spot next to her. "What did you think Ziva?"

Ziva felt the blessed comfort of the bed supporting them and could finally breathe normally again. Or perhaps it was that Gibbs was finally next to her again. She couldn't ignore his question but she knew how much she would reveal simply by answering. "I thought I had lost you."

Gibbs let his hand trace the wound the IV had left in her hand. He had to swallow past the fear the past three days had poured into his bones. His own injuries a bullet wound to the shoulder and a nasty concussion had kept him in his own bed until only that morning. Still he'd snuck from his own bed to hers as often as the stubborn nurse would allow. So the softly whispered words and all the emotion behind them were far more familiar than she might have believed. "You aren't alone in that fear Ziva. There were many moments I too thought I had lost you. Somehow I got damn lucky…we got damn lucky."

As he watched her dark brown eyes so full of pain and sadness finally locked with his. He saw the shock the realization that he felt as she did and he smiled. "I prayed Ziva, literally on my knees that you would live, that if I was never granted another thing to have you given back to me. Not for a moment will I forget what a gift you are."

Ziva pulled in another breath letting her fingers twist with his, fighting the heavy weight of sleep trying to claim her. "I thought I just wanted you, but it is more than that."

"Do you know why I was wearing a suit that day?" Gibbs watched her blush, remembering the way she had looked at him that morning. She shook her head and he stroked her hair as she winced at the motion. "I turned in my retirement papers to Vance. I planned on telling you after work. I wanted you; for more than a night or a moment."

Ziva heard the absolute certainty in his voice the confidence that his decision had been the right one and it shocked her as much as the actual words he spoke. "I would never ask that of you…"

"And that's why I didn't tell you until after." He let his head rest against hers. "I love you Ziva David and I'm taking this second chance and running with it, if you'll have me."

Ziva felt the heavy weight of sleep trying to draw a curtain over the most important moment of her life. With her hand against the beat of his heart, a reminder he was indeed alive she whispered against his mouth. "And I love you Jethro Gibbs." Only then could she sleep, wrapped in his arms safe knowing this time she wouldn't wake to a nightmare but to the best kind of dream come true.