A/N: Hello. This is only my second NCIS story ever. And it's a lot longer than the last one. I like to think that it's a little better, too. Let me know what you think?

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or Top Gun. However, I love them both very much. I 3 Iceman. And Tony.

Don't Leave

"We should go see a movie. That old theater downtown is showing Top Gun."

Ziva sank onto her bed but didn't lay down. She sat on the edge of the mattress and kicked her heeled boots off, tossing them toward the corner of the room. She scooted so she was seated leaning back against the headboard, closed her eyes, and sighed tiredly. It had been a long week and an even longer day.

Their investigation of a female Marine who had been raped and murdered led them to a shootout with their suspect, a Sailor named Thurman. They managed to apprehend him, but not before he shot and killed an NCIS agent and wounded two D.C. cops. Gibbs had them working on overdrive all week to get the rape and murder charges to stick definitively, but when they finally arrested the scumbag after he shot at them, the Special-Agent-In-Charge had sent her home. She could not exactly understand why, but she was exhausted enough after getting only a few hours of sleep for the past few days that she obeyed the order. She would do as she was told.

Now that she was back at her apartment all she wanted to do was take a hot bath and sleep for longer than three hours. Once she had gotten in her bed, though, she decided that maybe she would skip the bath; the bed was just too comfortable to leave right now. Plus, something didn't feel quite right.

A few quiet moments later she opened her eyes and saw Tony standing in the doorway. He was watching her silently.

"Tony," she spoke, "How did you get in here? I locked the door."

Her partner chuckled. "You really think that after several years of being your partner that I haven't picked up on any of your ninja tricks?"

The Israeli-American simply smirked and closed her eyes again, moving over slightly so that Tony had room to sit down next to her. "What are you doing here?" she asked. She wasn't angry.

"Well," Tony shrugged, "I guess I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Today was rough."

"I am fine, Tony. I do not need a babysquatter," she answered, turning her head to look at him.

"Okay, first of all, it's babysitter, Zee-vah. Secondly, I never said you did. You're my partner and my best friend, Zeev. I care about you, is all."

Ziva looked deep into his eyes while he spoke and she knew that he really was just concerned for her. It made her feel special, needed, loved. It wasn't that patronizing concern one has because they feel obligated. It was the kind one had when they genuinely cared for someone else.

"Thank you, Tony," she smiled and patted his leg, "but as I said before, I am fine."

The look he gave her said that he didn't quite believe her, but he knew her well enough to know to let it go for now. "If you say so, David. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

He made a move to get up, but Ziva gripped his arm, stopping him. "Please...don't leave."

He nodded slowly and lowered himself back into his place beside her. They sat together in silence, just enjoying each other's company, for another half hour before Tony spoke again. "We should go see a movie. That old theater downtown is showing Top Gun."

She considered it for a minute before responding. "As tempting as it sounds to go and listen to you quote every single line the entire time, I think I just want to go to bed."

"Aw, come on, Zee-vah! It'll be fun! I promise."

He was giving her the face. The face with the big round eyes and the pouty quivering lips. The face that, over the years, he had learned would win her over nine times out of ten.

"DiNozzo, it is nearly three o'clock in the morning!" she exclaimed.

"So?"

Ziva couldn't help but laugh at how he moved his shoulders and hands, gesturing that he wasn't sure what was so unusual about randomly deciding to go to a movie in the middle of the night. Soon he was laughing, too. Sometimes she couldn't decide if he was a child or a grown man, and it amused her.

"You are crazy," she told him, shaking her head.

He stopped laughing and look directly at her. "Am I, Ziva?" he asked, "You're the one having a conversation with a ghost."

She looked at him in shock, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She blinked and he was gone. It was in that moment that everything came rushing back to her.

The shootout. The sound of all hell breaking loose. The second Gibbs and McGee got Jason Thurman, their ratbag of a suspect, under control. The sinking feeling when she no longer heard Tony's weapon returning fire.

The coughing and gasping for air that alerted her that something was very, very wrong.

She had rushed toward the sound only to find her partner lying in a rather large pool of blood that was growing by the second. She looked him over and found the source; two bullet holes in his chest.

"TONY!" she screamed, quickly dropping to her knees by his side. She threw her head over her shoulder long enough to shout for Gibbs and an ambulance, voice dripping with panic, but soon her attention was returned solely to her wounded partner. She put her hands over the entry wounds, trying like hell to stop the bleeding.

"Ziva," he choked.

"Shh! Do not talk, Tony," she interrupted him, "Just relax and hold on, help is coming."

He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, weakly reaching up to put his hand on top of hers. Blood kept steadily leaking through their fingers, but Ziva refused to give up on him.

"Ziva, listen to me," he coughed.

"Tony-"

"There's something...need to tell you."

"Tony, please don't," she begged, "You can tell me later." She didn't register the tears on her cheeks.

"Sorry...never told you...love you."

Ziva squeezed her eyes shut. This could not be happening. Not right now, not ever. Not to him, not to her, not to them. Tony could not be dying. "I love you, too, Tony," she whispered back, looking into his half-open eyes, not caring that Gibbs was now kneeling on his other side and had heard the whole thing. "Please...don't leave."

Tony shifted his gaze momentarily over to his long-time mentor. "Boss...sorry about...rule number twelve."

Gibbs took a deep shuddering breath and knew in his bones that he was going to lose his senior field agent, the best man he had ever had in his command, today. "It's alright, DiNozzo," he quietly replied, "I'll let it slide this time. Just this once, though, you got me?"

Tony nodded and managed a half-smile before closing his eyes. Ziva's heart began to race and panic rose in her stomach until he opened them again and looked at her. It took all his energy to take a breath and speak.

"We should go see a movie. That old theater downtown is showing Top Gun."

His eyes closed again, but this time they stayed that way. His shallow breathing slowed to a stop and he was no longer moving. The grip he'd had on Ziva's hands loosened and his head rolled slightly to one side.

"Tony?" she shook him, "Tony?"

Gibbs reached out and felt the agent's neck for a pulse as the paramedics finally got to them. He got out of their way, prying Ziva with him in the process, as she struggled against him.

"TONY!"

Seemingly endless tears fell from Ziva's eyes and rolled down her cheeks to her chin. She had wanted it to all be one big terrible dream. Because that's what it was, a nightmare. Soon she would wake up and go to work, and Tony would be there sitting across the bullpen from her. He would find a movie to fit whatever case they were working on and quote it nonstop. He would correct her use of idioms and go on with the conversation without missing a beat. He would lob balls of paper at her while she tried to finish paperwork and then come snooping through her email. That's what would happen.

As hard as she tried to convince herself, the gaping hole in her heart and the feeling of complete emptiness and despair in her stomach told her otherwise. She would never see Tony again, never talk to him again. Unless she did go crazy and start imagining him with her all the time, which she would almost prefer. But then that was not really him; it was only her imagination and her heart conniving and playing tricks on her.

As she tried to lose herself in memories, her exhaustion and grief caught up to her so badly that she could no longer resist sleep. Not bothering to change her clothes or to even turn off the lights, Ziva crawled under the covers and gave in to her heavy eyelids. Before she drifted into a dreamless sleep, she could have sworn she felt Tony lay down beside her, pulling her close to him. "Don't leave," she mumbled, "Please don't leave."

End.