Far Away

Phone Call

It took all of his self-control to keep from running off the ship.

Instead he waited, feigning calm, for his turn to sign out.

Just three more people ahead of him.

Two.

One.

A hastily scrawled signature and he was free.

Or at least free for two days.

He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and hurried outside, making a beeline for the gangplank. It was a gross understatement to say he was desperate to get off the ship.

He relished the feel of firm land under his feet, even though the ship was incredibly steady.

Rather than take a cab, Tony strode down the street, admiring the atmosphere. He'd really missed city life.

He stopped at a restaurant first, eager to have some actual food.

Once he'd made his order, he pulled out his phone and was thrilled to see he had a signal.

He dialed her number without a single consideration for time zones or work hours or anything. None of that mattered. None of that would get in his way. He just wanted to hear her voice.

It rang seven times (yes, he counted) before the other end picked up.

"Tony?"

"Ziva?"

"I asked first."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, it's me."

There was a lengthy pause as they both seemed to struggle with words. 

"How is life on the Seahawk?" Ziva asked finally.

"Less than ideal. I share a room with six other guys, all younger than me. I share a bathroom with God only knows how many people. The food is impossible to identify. It's always loud, and never a private moment. How's Israel treating you?"

She sighed. "Less than ideal," she repeated.

He waited for her to continue, but then he got the impression she wouldn't, not willingly. "How so?"

"My father asked me to take on a mission."

"And...?" It was like pulling teeth. Painful, slow extraction.

"I would rather not discuss it."

"Okay. That's fine. What would you like to talk about?"

He could almost hear her shrug. "Where are you right now?"

"Lisbon. Nice place."

"Portugal is nice," she agreed. "You should see the Oceanarium or the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum." 

"Have you been to Portugal?"

"Twice. Beautiful country."

Where hadn't Ziva been?

"What are you doing right now?" he asked.

"Having coffee at the park."

"How's the coffee?"

"Not so good."

"Americans do make good coffee."

"Not always."

"Right, right. The coffee in the breakroom always sucked." He played with the straw in his drink. "Have you heard from anyone back in DC?"

"No." Her voice was tight, and he regretted bringing up what was obviously a sore topic. "Have you?"

Should he lie or tell the truth? "Gibbs called me last week, but we only talked for a minute."

"Ah." Was she mad at him for having contact with the old team, or was she mad at Gibbs for ignoring her?

"How are you doing? About... you know."

Again there was a long pause. "Fine. You?"

"Better, I think. No alcohol on the ship, so I've been sober for a full week..."

"That is good."

Why was it so awkward? Why couldn't they just talk like they used to? He didn't want to argue with her, but maybe it would at least get her to speak her mind... Should he?

"Really, though, Ziva. How are you?"

"Tired." Still not the answer he was looking for. "Frustrated." A little better. "I am... not happy to be back in Tel Aviv."

"Oh?"

"It has been nothing but a nightmare."

Hallelujah, she was going to finally tell him everything.

***

He couldn't see her, wouldn't be able to for a long time if ever again, so why not just let it all out?

So she let her rage spill over. "My father demanded I take the mission not even five minutes after I left the airport. A suicide mission, mind you. He insisted I look through the file, so I did, and then I presented him with my conditions. I was perfectly reasonable. Is it too much to ask for a little respect? To be treated like his daughter instead of a weapon at his disposal?"

"No," Tony said quietly.

"I did not think so. But he laughed at me, so I left. And then he sent this Mossad officer to my place to talk me down. I left then and have not been back since, so... I am being very careful with covering my tracks, and honestly, I should have left this phone there. No doubt my father will be tracking it if he has not already."

"Can I have your new number?"

"I... Yes. Of course." She impatiently brushed her hair out of her face. "I will call you from it later."

"Thank you."

"Mmhm." This was the calmest she'd felt in days, like maybe all she needed was to confide in someone. "Thank you for calling, Tony."

"Sure. I told you I would. I just didn't think it would take so long."

"That is fine. I understand."

Neither of them spoke for a moment, though Ziva heard another voice on the other end and could only assume that Tony was at a restaurant and being served his food just then.

"So the Oceanarium, huh?" he asked finally, a smile in his voice.

*****

Still shorter than I'd like, but they've all been short lately, and I have a biology exam to study for.

Aw, they're cute. Did we like their phone call? If you have any ideas for future phone conversations, feel free to drop me a line, haha.

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