Far Away

Broken Pieces

He was stunned.

Was that really how she saw it?

That he was being completely unreasonable?

That he was asking things of her that he had no right to ask?

So that was it.

His worst fears were confirmed.

He blinked, watching as her hand went to her eye, wiping away a tear before he could see it.

"You would be better off seeing the doctor onboard," she said quietly, and his stomach dropped further.

"Ziva-"

She gave him an unreadable look and then continued on down the street without him. She didn't even look back.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He touched his face again, trying to imagine how bad it must look. He was going to draw a lot of stares.

But it didn't matter.

***

She buried her face in a pillow before letting out a scream.

It was all a nightmare.

Everything was ruined.

Instead of falling into place, all the pieces were falling apart.

Her career, her relationships, her life, her control. Falling apart.

Quicker than she could have ever imagined.

Messier, too.

She let the pillow soak up her tears, let the silence calm her breathing.

She may not have a partner, but she still had what was left of herself.

And she was good at getting things done.

***

Tony dragged his feet as he headed back to the ship.

He didn't want his crewmates to see him like this, beaten and defeated, but mainly he wanted to give Ziva a chance to come after him.

He wanted to look into her eyes and hear her reassure him that they were okay, that the other guy really was a nobody. He wanted to hold her in his arms and-

"Dude, what happened?"

Tony hadn't realized how close to the ship he was getting.

Sammy changed his direction to keep pace with him. "Were you mugged or something?"

"Or something, alright," Tony muttered.

"Did you get him? Did you-"

"I really don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay, sure. You should probably get that taken care of."

"Thanks, Sam."

Sammy gave him a sloppy salute before hurrying on his way again.

Tony kept his head down and reboarded the ship.

***

It was beyond sloppy, but it was the only remaining possibility.

And it wouldn't fail.

Ziva checked the briefcase one more time.

Michael had put it together the day before under her close supervision, and it still looked to be in working order.

She turned her attention to the clothing bag on her bed. The dress was a little too much for her (or rather, not enough), but it was required by this final contingency plan.

She made one last phone call. "Fifteen minutes. Plan Z."

"Got it."

She hung up and slipped into the dress.

She fixed her makeup and her hair.

She found her heels and put them on.

She took off her simple necklace and replaced it with diamond earrings.

Looking at her, no one would ever guess how empty she felt.

***

He went to sick bay only because he couldn't stand the thought of cleaning up in the communal bathroom, being peppered with questions about what happened.

Sick bay was embarrassing, but it was private.

Once the blood was gone, you wouldn't guess that he'd been punched out. There wasn't even much bruising.

One of the doctors gave him a quick check and then okayed him to leave.

He wandered down the corridor, mindlessly slipping past the other men and women.

It was like he hadn't even left the ship. He was traipsing the same halls, he looked the same, but something was broken inside.

He was sure he'd rattle if someone shook him.