Far Away

Slipping Away

Um, yeah, so I still haven't learned that starting a chapter on one device and finishing it on another screws everything up. So if you didn't read the end scene of the last chapter (Ziva's POV), you might want to go back and check that out.

Sorry for the inconvenience.

*****

Days passed. Tony lost track of how many. It didn't really matter anyway.

He tried to avoid thinking about Morocco, instead trying to transport himself back into the mindset of Greece.

He filled his tiny living space with the captured memories and spent a pathetic amount of time just sitting there, staring, trying to remember the breeze, the warmth of the sun, the sound of her laugh.

It was slowly slipping away, and there was nothing he could do about it. All the tugging in the world wouldn't bring those feelings back.

Maybe it was for the best.

***

She was staring at her reflection when a knock on the door startled her.

Her fingers touched the line of stitching one more time before she sighed and turned from the mirror.

She opened the bathroom door just a crack, and found Michael's face mere inches away.

"What?" she asked. Their relationship had been even more strained since the explosion, at least on her end.

"Your father wants to see you."

"He saw me yesterday."

"He would like to talk to you again, Ziva."

"About?"

He shrugged. "He did not say. But I got the feeling it is important."

Everything is important, she wanted to say. Everything except her.

"Fine. I will be there in a minute." She closed the bathroom door again and took some time to compose herself.

She waited another thirty seconds before heading to her father's office. No sense in dragging it out.

She pushed the door open without knocking, and found her father sitting calmly behind his desk.

There were papers everywhere; no doubt he couldn't waste any time in waiting for her to show up.

"Ziva."

"Abba."

He waved her closer, and she reluctantly went around the side of his desk.

"How is your head?" he murmured, his eyes drifting up to her forehead.

"The same as it was when you asked me yesterday. Fine." She didn't mean to be rude, but this was a waste of her time too.

"I see." He paused for a moment, and just when he seemed ready to speak again, the phone rang. He glanced at the number and then hit speaker. "Agent Gibbs. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ziva's pulse quickened.

"Still trying to get ahold of Ziva."

"Then you are in luck. She is here."

Before her father could stop her, Ziva snatched the phone from its cradle. "Gibbs."

"Ziver. I've been trying to call you."

"So I have heard." She wasn't quite sure what else to say. She didn't think she was still mad at him for letting Vance send her away, but it had been months since they last talked, and it was just awkward.

"We miss you."

She glanced at Michael and her father before whispering back, "I miss you too."

"How would you feel about coming home?"

Her eyes again shot up to her father, even though he couldn't hear what Gibbs said.

"I would love to."

"I already talked to Vance. He just needs to clear it with your father."

It was too good to be true. She could go back to DC. Well, if her father let her.

Let her?

Yeah, as much as she hated to admit it, she needed her father's help if she was going to return to NCIS.

"Ziver, you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I was just... Yes."

"How about we free up the line and talk later?"

"Yes. That would be good."

"Take care," he said.

"You, too."

Then the line went dead and she sadly returned the phone.

"You must be tired," her father mused, turning to her.

She shrugged.

"Go home, rest. Take it easy."

She started toward the door, but he stopped her with, "No kiss for your father?"

It took a lot of self-control to keep from sighing.

But she went back to him, as she always did, and kissed him goodbye.

Then she went to the door, and slipped through into the quiet hallway.

*****

Getting close to the end...

Probably five more chapters, give or take a couple.

Vote and comment!