Far Away

Change in Plans

They were in Morocco by the end of the week.

Michael was out again, running surveillance. He was ready to dive in, but Ziva insisted on taking extra precautions.

She had made Tony a promise, and she was going to do her best to keep it.

She skimmed through her notes, sometimes struggling to decipher the handwriting.

Her own handwriting. Michael's was actually always very neat.

Her stomach growled but she ignored it. She didn't have time to stop and eat. She needed to review everything in their files, make sure they hadn't missed anything, make sure they had every facet covered. Only when she was satisfied with their intel could she allow herself the pleasure of a full stomach.

She continued to read for another hour, sighing in relief when she finished the last page.

There wasn't any food in their rented apartment, so she grabbed her bag and headed down the street to the nearest restaurant.

No sooner had she sat down than her phone rang. Her pulse jumped as she pulled it out of her pocket, and then disappointment washed over her when the screen said Michael Rivkin, not Tony DiNozzo.

"What is it?" she asked tersely.

"I think... We may have a small problem," Michael muttered.

She rubbed her temple before saying, "Okay, what would that be?"

"Well, you know how our plan hinges on neither of us being identified beforehand?"

If not for the calm elderly couples sitting around her, Ziva would have cursed him in every language she knew.

Instead she settled for growling under her breath. "What the hell happened?"

"I may or may not have broken cover."

She couldn't stay in the restaurant any longer.

She went back outside and ducked into an alley, slamming her free hand into the wall. "Michael, what the hell?! Either you did or you did not!" Her fury, intensified by her rapid-fire Hebrew, sent a homeless man scampering away.

"I did." He was so quiet she barely heard him.

"I could kill you, Michael. I thought you understood I would not tolerate any more screw-ups."

"I know. I am sorry."

"Not sorry enough. This should not have happened. If you were better at your job, you would not have had to call me. You would have fixed it yourself and told me after the fact."

"Okay, I can do that, I can-"

"Too late, Michael. I cannot let you handle it yourself. You will only make it worse."

"I swear, I can-"

"No. I am done making exceptions. This was your second chance. You wasted it." She paused to examine the bleeding around her knuckles. "I will be there in ten minutes. Do not move, do not talk to anyone. Do you understand me?"

"I-"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

She hung up and stormed out of the alley. She had been right to doubt him. He was only a hindrance.

***

The news was too good to be true.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Yes, I'm sure," Sammy said, laughing. "We're docking in Casablanca in two days."

"For how long?"

Sammy shrugged. "Three, four days?"

He couldn't wait. He'd call Ziva as soon as he went ashore. Maybe she'd be able to fly out to see him again.

Morocco was only, what, a five hour flight from Tel Aviv?

*****

Oh, man. It's about to get intense.

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