Ziva's gun was raised, prepared for fire. The door was wide open. Her heart was beating fast. She was ready to face anything. Until she saw him. Her gun was raised before her partner. She was in her own apartment. Her heart felt as if a thousand knifes had been jammed inside. She was not sure what she could face anymore.

Her apartment was completely trashed. Lamps were knocked over. Her photo of Tali, Ari, and herself was lying shattered on the floor.

Michael lay on the floor, bleeding out from his wounds. He was dead; that much was obvious. His eyes were closed. He was gone.

Tony's gun was pointed right back at her, his eyes shocked, surprised, sorry, and hurting. His left arm appeared limp.

The man she had fallen in love with was dead at the hand of the man she had always trusted her life with. The man who so obviously didn't trust her anymore. Tony had killed him. He killed him. How could she ever trust him again?