Falling or Flying (because Elevator Love was just too cheesy)

AN: I'm back! I will be back with Castle fics sometime over the next couple of weeks too. I find these characters difficult to write, I just don't have enough movie references in my head to do Tony justice & Ziva's confused version of English isn't exactly my thing. But, after watching the finale, & reading this quote, I couldn't get it out of my head, 'It was no accident that fan favorites Tony and Ziva ended up in an elevator at the tail end of NCIS Season 9 ... which makes sense, considering that most people take the stairs during an evacuation'. This will probably be a two-shot. Unfortunately, I'm not sure when shot two will be up – technically I'm meant to be working on assessment…

Awareness returned slowly. It came with flickers of light behind her eyelids. It came with soft moans of pain, a gentle voice – familiar – urgent, but soft, calling her name. Mostly it came with the sensation of agony, of hurt, softened by a careful touch, fingers brushing against her cheek. She stirred a little, a small groan unconsciously escaping her lips as she did. She ached, but the sensation wasn't entirely new to her. She was tough, as tough as person could be whilst retaining the essence of their humanity. She wasn't a machine, she was human, and as familiar as the hurt was, it was still that, hurt. She wanted relief. She wanted to drift back to the darkness. Let it claim her. As she sunk back further into her mind the voice interrupted her again.

"Ziva. Ziva. You need to wake up," his lips were at her ear, insistent, warm breath tickling her skin. "C'mon," he sighed, gripping her upper body and dragging her a little more upright. It did the trick. The movement heightened her awareness. She pulled herself together, allowed reality to stake its claim over her.

"Tony," she hissed, blinking her eyes open, the light harsh and unforgiving. He grunted noncommittally in response. She softened a little. "You okay?"

"Fine," he grinned, "It's you I'm worried about, all lazily passed out on the floor like that. Gibbs doesn't stand for slacking off on his team". She rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head – gently, there was a slowly bleeding gash oozing on his forehead after all. He narrowed his eyes a little, "hmm, I suppose Gibbs would've approved of that".

"Your concern is touching," she muttered as his mouth twisted back into its characteristic grin.

"So, now that you're awake maybe we should work on a way of getting out of here," he hedged. As fun as being trapped in a decimated elevator with Ziva was, he wouldn't say no to a toilet, or a shower, or a doctor for that matter. His head was kind of throbbing, an uncomfortable rhythm that left the edges of his brain feeling a little fuzzy. It wasn't the best sensation. He wasn't all that concerned though, he'd certainly had worse on the job, much, much worse. He casually assessed Ziva once again. She seemed okay now that she was conscious. He had been seriously worried to wake and find her largely unresponsive. She'd come to fairly quickly and her usual glowing personality was in place. He noted that she was looking at him in much the same way, carefully cataloguing injuries to ensure that they really were both fine. He took that as an invitation to stare at her a little more determinedly. Her left arm looked a little limp, she was seemingly absentmindedly running the fingers of her right hand along it, coaxing it back into full functionality. There were grazes running randomly over the snatches of exposed skin. She had really borne the brunt of the falling debris as they'd dived to each other and subsequently the floor of the elevator as the explosion had blown. The explosion. Oh god, the rest of their team. They were outside? They'd been evacuated, right?

"McGee, Abby, Gibbs, they left the building, yes?" she asked softly, her eyes on him, echoing his thoughts. He shrugged. Hard-ass as she was, she looked a little scared. He felt the need to be reassuring, he cleared his throat, pulled himself from his thoughts.

"I think so. Gibbs was out with Cole, searching Vance's car," he froze temporarily, the realisation that those words sounded less than optimistic. "It's Gibbs, the man's practically invincible. I'm sure he's fine."

"What if he's not?" she uttered the words so softly. There was a broken undertone to her voice that made him want to sweep her into his arms and murmur reassuringly until they were rescued. But that wasn't them. It wasn't his place – whose place was it really? Wasn't like there was anyone else. That didn't necessarily give him the right. Ziva David was no man's woman. She was the most independent fierce creature he knew. "Tony," she paused, drawing an almost strangled breath, "what if he's not? What about McGee? I think he was still inside. Did anyone go down to Abby's lab? What if she didn't get evacuated? We should have gone down there first…" He cut her off with the gentle yet firm press of his hand over her mouth. She sighed into his hand and he edged closer, pulling her to him with his free hand. He released her mouth and gingerly pressed her into his side in an awkward embrace.

"They'll be okay," he murmured against her hair. "We're okay, right? I think we've borne the worst of it. We're trapped in an elevator for crying out loud. The others, our family, they would have run, or at least had the sense to dive behind something sturdy to shield themselves." She relaxed into his side a little bit.

"Thank you, Tony," she sighed, the faintest hint of relief colouring her tone, her hand coming to find his and squeezing it. He intertwined their fingers and tugged her closer. They rested for a moment, breathing steadily and looking pointedly at the wall. No need to ruin things with reality.

The elevator light flickered. At first Ziva thought it was her head, her eyes dying on her for a moment. It flickered again, and again, before fading away and plunging them into tentative darkness.

"There's a chance we should've scoped out an escape route slightly better before that happened," Tony muttered with a groan.

"Helpful," she retorted, pushing to move from his grip and get them out from the rubble and the damn elevator. He yanked her back.

"Oh no, stay here. Keanu Reeves will be along any second to save us," he winked, it was lost to the darkness.

"Huh?" It was somewhat of a knee-jerk reaction, she was utterly perplexed, it was probably what kept her from struggling against him and getting up – that and that alone. It certainly wasn't the warmth – heat almost – radiating from him and spreading through her body that kept her willingly encased in his arms.

"Keanu Reeves. Speed. Seriously, it's a classic – yes, I'm using the term very liberally in this case. But he's a badass cop who saves people in elevators from bombs…" She pushed a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.

"I am familiar with it, Tony. I don't see how it helps us."

"Never mind," he pouted with flair.

"You are such a drama princess," she griped.

"It's drama queen," he flashed back.

"Queen implies adult, you are not an adult. Therefore, you are a princess," she reasoned coolly. He rolled his eyes, grateful to the darkness as she didn't elbow him to the ribs in response. Probably for the best that she missed that little gesture.

He released his grip and nudged her gently. She rose to her knees and made her way through the debris, hands seeking a way out. He mirrored her, tentatively pushing on the walls and the floors. His fingers found an indent in the cool metal, the seam of the door, running from top to bottom. He reached out and pulled Ziva to him. She came willingly, her fingers tracing the door.

"You pull, I push. Mmm, that almost sounds dirty," he chuckled. She shook her head, ran her fingers across his chest teasingly.

"I like to push," she breathed. He stiffened a little under her touch before regaining himself.

"That's hot. But I like it to be special and the location's not really doing it for me, so how about we open the door," he smirked. She let her fingers linger slightly as she pulled them away from him, the gesture wasn't lost on him, his smirk widened.

They tugged on the door, nails and fingertips straining under the pressure. It didn't budge. They re-angled themselves, alternating between both pushing and pulling in opposite directions to pushing and pulling in the same direction but to no avail. The door was jammed, firmly. It wasn't going to open with anything less than the jaws-of-life. Surely there were firemen on their way. It's not like the Naval Investigative building could be blown up without an intense search and rescue taking place. Surely. They weren't exactly quiet. They'd be heard, someone would come. They just had to wait it out.

X-X-X-X-X-X

After their escape attempt they'd settled back on the floor, situated further away from each other than they had been before. Both were silent, the conversation had lulled to nothing and they were lost in their thoughts. Admittedly, their thoughts centred rather pivotally on one another but neither was prepared to make that admission. It was just another day on the job, neither was in mortal peril, it was no time to be making death bed confessions of adoration.

Ziva knew. She was a woman, she was perceptive. She was aware. She had known for a long time now that there was something there, something more, something deeper. Something she never really intended to act upon as long as they both lived. What was the point, Gibbs had rules, and never date a co-worker was just plain commonsense. There was no way it would add to a workplace dynamic, it just meant conflict. The job came first, this job always came first. It was home, it was family, it was life. That didn't mean there was undeniable chemistry between herself and Tony. It just meant there was no incentive to act on it. She really did care about him though, in a way she cared about no other man. He had told her to evacuate, she had refused to without him, that in itself said enough – it said everything. She'd grasped his hand and they'd stepped into the elevator together. They were undoubtedly in this together. She wanted to be sitting in his arms again, not opposite him in the wrecked elevator, uncomfortable, her knees curled into her chest. It was dark but she could make out his frame across from her, head back, knees mirroring hers.

He rested his head on the wall, the fuzziness increasing. His brain was throbbing relentlessly now. Straining to pull the unmoveable doors open had left him feeling woozy and lightheaded. He drew his hands to his head and bit back a moan. He didn't want Ziva to worry, he didn't want her to see him vulnerable, exposed and injured. He needed to man up and get her out, get them both out. He was grateful to observe that she seemed largely unaffected, anxious given her posture, but physically fine. He'd been worried about her wrist earlier but it hadn't prevented her from putting her full weight into unsuccessfully wedging the doors open. That was something. He was a silver lining kind of guy. The silver lining to the fact that his head was combusting internally was that Ziva was the picture of health. Relatively speaking anyway. The pounding in his head was immensely irritating. It was making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut and wished it to ebb away. It didn't. He willed harder still and found himself slipping away. His head lolled to the side and the pain slipped away, the darkness inviting him in.

X-X-X-X-X-X

The silence drifted on. Ziva lost in her thoughts and Tony lost.