Far Away

Out of Control

If you sense some underlying rage in this update, that would be because I got my English paper back yesterday and I'm very ticked off about the grade I got on it. I'm the only one allowed to call my writing trash (not that my teacher did, but I don't take criticism well regardless).

Anyway. That will probably just make it easier to write this.

*****

The file drew Ziva in against her will.

Actually reading it, flipping through the pages of information, touching the pictures, made it too real. She was back at Mossad. All the progress she thought she'd made in her career was gone. Down the drain.

It was like she'd never even worked at NCIS. Like she never met Gibbs, or Abby, or McGee, or Ducky, or Jimmy, or Tony.

Tony.

Her eyes flew to her phone, and disappointment pooled in her stomach when the blank screen stared back at her.

Was that just it then? The people who became her new family were just going to let her go that easily? Let her sink further into the possibility that she was never one of them?

She fought the urge to throw the phone at a wall. It was her only link to her past life.

She let her attention drift back to the file, feeling hot tendrils of anger spiral through her veins. There was no good reason for her to be here. Yeah, she screwed up beyond belief, but it was also out of her control.

She'd been given an order, and no, she didn't like it, she'd do anything to go back in time and change it, but she respected her director's wishes. It drove her nuts to be left behind, and it destroyed her to find the body, and it scattered her pieces to hell and back to have to explain to Gibbs what happened.

She could've made a different choice, but that could be said of any situation.

It was out of her control.

Jenny was armed, so she wasn't defenseless. Even if Ziva and Tony had been there by her side, who's to say things still wouldn't have ended the same way?

Why was she being punished?

For omission, rather than commission?

Was that even fair?

No.

It was not fair.

Not to her, not to Tony, not the team.

She flung the file away from her and watched as the papers fluttered to the floor.

***

Tony stared at the plate in front of him. Was he really supposed to eat this? It didn't even resemble food.

The meal situation just furthered his list of reasons to hate this ship.

1. It's not DC

2. It's not home

3. Too many people in too small a space

4. No privacy

5. No team

6. No Ziva

7. No pizza

8. No cell service

9. No alcohol

10. Food sucks

There were probably a million other reasons, but he was too tired to think it all through. Probably because the beds were horrible and to make matters worse, he shared living quarters with half a dozen others.

Definitely a big step down from what he was used to.

But maybe he deserved it. At least he was still breathing, which was more than some could say.

More than Jenny could say.

Again his mind spun back to that horrible afternoon, the dust that was settling as they got out of the car, the utter silence, the way his pulse leaped into his neck when he saw the first body, how it got harder and harder to breathe with each step he took, with every droplet of blood he saw.

How his stomach plummeted to the floor when he saw her, when he knew.

And it was never going to be the same again.

He was not the same person anymore.

And that's why Vance drop-kicked him to the USS Seahawk. Because he was a screw-up, and no one likes screw-ups.

Especially not new directors with something to prove.

So was he just an example then?

A warning to everyone else?

Was that fair to him?

He hadn't realized until then that he had found his way outside, and was standing at the stern-end railing of the massive ship.

He stared down at the raging waters below.

It would be so easy to just lose his balance and topple over. No one would notice him missing, not immediately anyway.

But the ocean's depths would finally stifle the screaming guilt inside him. Finally there would be relief.

It would be so easy.

"Hey! DiNozzo!"

He spun around, feeling like he'd been caught doing something shameful, but surely they couldn't know what was racing through his mind.

Sammy ran toward him. "You're wanted in the command room. I think someone's trying to get ahold of you? Not really sure, I heard from-"

Tony raced past the younger man. A conversation with anyone not on this ship would be a blessing.

*****

They're being a little over-dramatic, yes, but what did you expect? One cuddle session isn't enough to fix their hurts. They've still got some healing to do.

Also... who do you think is trying to contact Tony? If you guess in the comments and get it right, I'll dedicate the next chapter to you. No joke.

Let that be incentive to vote and comment!