A/N: A little something to get us to the next season. I don't own NCIS, CBS, or any other known entity. This is something that popped into my head while watching Aliyah, and it's in four parts, all of which center around the plane (but not all the same plane ride). Story's first person, but I think it's clear who's talking. Having said all that, I hope you guys enjoy this story, and please review. :)

Part 1

There are no words to say. None that could make her feel better, anyway. Because even if I do try to say, "I'm sorry," it won't even come close to being enough. And as I watch her from across the plane, I feel the pain in my arm grow worse.

Emotional pain always makes physical pain worse.

I'm sandwiched in this uncomfortable seat on a priority ride from Washington to Tel Aviv, and I have to be honest that the only thing that I'm wondering is whether or not I'll be around to make the return trip. Whether or not I'll be stuck in Tel Aviv in some Israeli prison. Which isn't exactly likely, given the crime I've committed.

Murder.

I'm not the type of person that murders someone, even though that's what everyone else seems to believe. If someone goes down because I shot them, it's usually because they've come after me first. I may have been accused of murder three times, but I swear, I've done nothing wrong.

One of us was going to die in that room.

As I look around at my company- Vance, Ziva, Gibbs- I realize they're all wondering the same thing I am. How did I survive in that room? Rivkin should've killed me. He's a Mossad assassin. So how the hell did I make it out of there?

Is it because he was drunk?

Did I really manage to get the better of him?

Why did he die and not me?

And as the plane ride continues in the same uncomfortable silence that had started back in Ziva's apartment, I think (and not for the first time) that maybe it should have been Rivkin who walked away from the situation. I wonder if Ziva would have finally taken him into custody. Would she even care if I was dead?

Probably not. On either of those points.

I close my eyes, trying to relax on the long plane ride to hell. I wonder what everyone else is thinking. Is Vance gonna just throw me over to his good friend, Director David, otherwise known as Ziva's Daddy? Is Gibbs gonna let Vance run the show? Will I be able to talk to Ziva about any of this?

It's a waiting game, one that I don't know if I can win. I can kill a Mossad assassin, but I can't take a long, silent plane ride.

I don't know if there really is something to be said here. My report is in. Vance and Gibbs have read it. Maybe Ziva has too. I've read hers. We all know what's going on here, along with what has already happened.

What we arrive to, though, is a different story.

I know I need to relax, to simply let whatever is going to happen, happen. I can't predict what's going to happen in Tel Aviv, and I can't stop it either. I sigh again, trying to calm myself down.

Please let me leave Tel Aviv alive.