The first time Tony had an inclination to send thank you notes to whoever invented Kevlar, he was still just a beat cop at Baltimore. It was the first time someone pulled a gun on him and actually pulled the trigger. At the time, Tony had been wearing a soft vest that was used by most cops. It was light and after a while Tony didn't even realize he was wearing it. Not after several months of constant use. It was normal for a street cop to have the vest. While it wouldn't save him from a rifle, it did stop the smaller caliber guns. It also kind of helped with knives and other piercing objects. But it wasn't miracle armor and when the bullet hit, Tony was thrown backwards several feet. His chest hurt for a good week, but he was alive and the perp that tried to kill him was shot in the leg by Tony's partner. That time no one died.

Years later Tony was playing for bigger dogs. The dangers grew with the responsibility, so he didn't protest against the hard vest filled with metal plates. It was heavier than its soft cousin, but this one could stop a rifle bullet. Working at NCIS brought Tony into closer contact with the business end of a rifle than he thought possible. The second time he was happy for the existence of the vest was on a rooftop, as they chased after Ari. That time it saved Kate's life, and Tony felt relief when he helped her up to her feet. What he felt next was the spray of warm red on his face as a bullet pierced Kate's skull. Tony stood still, the blood dripping down his face and all he could think about was that someone should have invented a Kevlar helmet. Because really, a person could survive shots to the chest, but who could survive a bullet between eyes? Movement from Gibbs and basic survival instinct made Tony snap out of his thoughts and go after Ari, but once the danger was gone and Kate was buried, Tony couldn't stop the sudden flare of anger. Because the vest was a lie. It promised safety, a chance of survival, but in the end it was all just false promises. It couldn’t save Kate. Because good snipers always took head-shots.

It took a while for Tony not to feel that anger when putting on a vest. It no longer had the placebo effect, that crutch saying 'you're safe' even if you were facing down a gunman. Ironically, it was a situation which Tony couldn’t remember that made him appreciate the safety of it again. When he woke up on the street surrounded by cops, he was really happy to feel the crude material under his shirt, even if everything beneath it hurt. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he came to be there and he definitely didn't know why there were traces of blood not far from him and multiple shots reported. But he felt the bullets that were lodged in the Kevlar and knew it was what had saved his life.

Tony didn't know how long the vest would keep saving his life. Most of the time, it was just an accessory, something that could be really uncomfortable during summer or irritatingly heavy after several hours of wearing it in the field. But sometimes it came to good use. Like now, as Tony spotted the speeding car. He was on security detail of a whiz kid that put McGee to shame with his hacking capabilities, but had absolutely no survival instinct, as was proven by his various attempts to flee from the agent’s eyes and hide in the nearest arcade playing video games. It was the second time Tony had to bring him back to the safe house, and he was just giving the kid a lecture worth the mighty Gibbs when a car show up, and a window rolled down.

Tony saw it in slow motion and managed to pull out his gun before the first bullet whizzed around his head. The kid had barely noticed the danger as Tony threw himself at him, pulling him to the ground and practically lying on top of him to provide some protection. There were several shots fired and Tony felt some of them hitting his back. It seemed like an eternity when the door to the house flew open and Ziva returned fire, hitting the driver and causing the car to swerve. Tony heard a crash but didn't really put it together with Ziva or the shooters. He was still waiting for the bullet, the one that would pierce his skull. His eyes were shut tight and he was back on that roof, smiling at Kate before the blood trickled down her forehead.

“Tony, let go. It's alright, we got them. You can let go,” Ziva's voice penetrated through the white noise of his brain and Tony frowned, his eyes blinking open.

“What?” He asked, voice hoarse. Ziva was leaning over him, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding down the boy.

“Let go of him, Tony,” she said and Tony realized he was clutching the boy to himself, arms circled protectively around his head and chest. The boy whimpered and Tony let go, looking at him dazedly, searching for blood but finding none.

Ziva helped the boy up and after a cursory look sent him into the house. They could already hear sirens but there was no need to risk his safety. The boy took one look at Tony and with eyes wide open and face a sickly green he rushed inside. Ziva knelt down beside Tony and put a steadying hand on his shoulder, to keep him on his side.

“You shouldn't move. The bullets didn't go through the vest, but they could've hit close to your spine.”

Tony blinked but didn't protest. As soon as the boy left his protection and he realized there were no other shots coming, the nerves in his back came to life and flared up with pain. He wasn't sure he could move even if he wanted to. Which he didn't.

“You got them?” He asked between shallow breaths, and Ziva gave him a dangerous grin.

“I'm a way better shot than they are.”

“Luckily,” Tony said with relief.

“Luckily for you they only seem to have hit the vest.”

“Yeah, well, I put some magnets inside,” Tony joked and then grimaced when a muscle protested at even the slightest movement. Ziva's hold on his arm tightened to give him more support.

“It doesn't work like that,” she said, even as she looked around to see the ambulance and several cop cars pulling up.

“But it should. Just imagine... That would give a whole new meaning to trouble magnet,” he chuckled.

“And you would call it what, The Bullet Magnet? You don't need that Tony, you’re already a magnet for all kinds of trouble.”

“Lucky then that I have a lifelong subscription to bulletproof vests,” he said and Ziva couldn't help but grin.

“Yeah, lucky you.”

The End