Far Away

Fire and Ice

No one questioned her when she took the stage.

A few men in the audience whistled (no doubt American sailors), but no one else seemed to notice her.

That was fine.

She didn't need or want to be remembered.

The small band started up behind her, and she was thankful they were willing to work with her on such short notice.

The song meant nothing to her, but she tried to pretend it did. She tried to show some emotion, tried to be desirable. She was going to give them a show they'd never forget.

***

He left the ship again in favor of a hotel room.

It took a little bit of searching, since apparently this was the busy season, but he eventually found a hotel that was reasonably priced.

He hauled his duffel bag up to the fourth floor and fumbled for his room key. He swore when it slipped from his hand and he had to crouch to find it and pick it up.

Eventually he got into his room. He tossed his bag in a corner and went straight to the bed. He was exhausted.

His hand found the remote control for the TV, and he flipped through channels looking for something good to watch.

Or anything to watch, really.

He wasn't picky.

***

The rest of the room was much darker than the stage, so it took a bit of effort to try and spot Michael.

Finally her eyes found him, and she left the stage to wander around. She brushed up against the target, pausing next to him to smile and touch his shoulder.

He was like putty, smiling stupidly at her attention.

She continued across the room, finding Michael and seeking eye contact.

Their eyes met, and he nodded ever so slightly.

They were all set.

Everything was ready.

Everything was about to go up in flames.

***

Gibbs glared over his computer at the useless agents sitting in his bullpen. Keating, Langer, Lee, not one of them was good.

Not as good as what he had before.

And you don't waste good.

His eyes were drawn up towards the director's office, where he knew Vance was sitting at Jenny's desk, chewing on a toothpick and playing God.

Changes were being made, and none of them sat well with him. He didn't like change.

He certainly didn't like being kept out of the loop, and he had an inkling that that's exactly what Vance was doing.

***

It was a struggle to sing with the countdown in her head.

But she somehow managed, at least until she saw the target stand up and make to leave.

Was it possible he knew?

Was he somehow tipped off?

She faltered, her mind going haywire.

There were barely ten seconds left on the clock. No time to call it off.

She watched the target walk out, and her pulse became the only thing she could hear.

And then there was the deafening sound of expanding air, of fire licking the room, of screams and panic.

And then there was silence.

***

Tony closed his eyes, just listening to the silly cartoon. It was the only thing he could find in English.

But then something changed, and he sat up, eyes wide as he stared at the screen.

He couldn't understand what they were saying but he turned it up louder but he didn't need to hear their words because he could guess what was happening that was Ziva that was his partner oh my God Ziva

***

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. Never this.

Gibbs tore his eyes away from the TV set and stumbled back to his desk to get his phone. He needed to know she was okay.

He needed to know that she was at least alive.

He could never forgive himself if he let Vance ship her off to die.

***

Tony ran down the street, several blocks taken up by emergency vehicles and police and onlookers.

It was a mess.

He craned his neck, trying to see her.

She had to be over there somewhere, maybe talking to a cop. She had to be, right? She had to be alive. She was Ziva. She was unstoppable.

He saw a few survivors exitting the building, but none of them were Ziva.

Where was she?

He refused to even let himself consider the other possibility.

No. She had to be there.

She was okay.

She had to be okay.

The panic started rising in his chest, and he couldn't keep it down. He needed to see her face. He needed-

He saw that man, the one who had bodyslammed him, the one who had been with Ziva.

He pushed his way over to the man, and knocked him backwards off the gurney.

The man stared up at him, beyond terrified. He kept his hands in front of his face, like he expected Tony to hit him again.

And maybe he would. "Who are you? Why were you with Ziva? Why did you hit me? Why were you in there? Where's Ziva? Is she okay? Where is she?" Tony demanded.

"Michael Rivkin, Mossad. I work with Ziva. I thought you were going to hurt her or break her cover. We were working on a very sensitive case. She was in there. I have not seen her since before the bomb went off. I am sorry."

Not sorry enough.

Tony grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him up. "You're going to tell me everything, or I'm going to kill you and dump your body in the ocean."

Rivkin gulped and nodded.

Tony half-dragged him away from the crowd, far enough away that he could hear himself think. "Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"What you were doing. Who you were after. Why the building exploded. Everything."