A/N- I still don't have ownership of any of the characters.


Ziva Sarah David knew she was going to die.

She was going to die in a dark, hopeless cell in the depths of North Africa.

And the triumphant, grinning face of Director Vance, as he pushed her over the edge would be the last thing she would-

What?!

Ziva felt a harsh force against her back and was winded. She opened her mouth to catch her breath, only to find water rushing into her lungs.

Ice-cold, dirty water.

Panicking she thrashed out with her arms and her legs, grateful for her training and her fitness as she fought against the rushing water and broke the surface. Coughing up the water, the cold air froze her lungs and made her dizzy.

She wasn't in North Africa anymore.

The water was in her ears, but she managed to force her eyes open to see the world about her.

She was in a river that ran through the middle of a populated area, possibly the Thames or Seine.

Judging from the buildings around her, she was either in the tourist heavy districts or...

"Hey...hey miss!" A man with an American accent called out to her "Swim over here"

Her legs were tiring, it took more effort than she wanted to not be moved along with the current. Turning her head she saw the man beckoning frantically to her, and the large crowd of people gathering to watch.

She didn't remember how she had ended up in the freezing water but she knew she'd be safest with the crowd. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the water again, hoping to be covered by the silt and invisible to anyone watching her from land, lest they try to shower her with bullets.

Reaching out with her hands, she found the stone wall and clawed up to the edge, hands grabbing her and pulling her above surface and dragging her onto the pavement. Her throat was still swollen from the bruising and her head ached, she choked on the water and her stomach heaved as it tried to expel it from her system.

"Somebody call nine-one-one!"

Even though she had nearly drowned, even though every part of her ached and even though she had no idea when she had left North Africa. That was the most beautiful sentence she could have heard,

Nine-one-one. The emergency number in the United States of America.

She was in America!


"Which city am I in?"

She didn't direct that question at anyone in particular but several answered, gabbling at once until she was able to determine one thing,

She was in Washington D.C.- the capital of America.

The home of the CIA, the FBI...

NCIS.

She was shivering- whether from the cold or the excitement, she couldn't be sure, but something dry and soft was being wrapped around her,

"Ma'm can you stand?"

Wearily she lifted her head to find herself looking at a young cop. He was pale with adrenalin and his teeth were chattering almost as much as hers,

"I suppose I shall have to try, no?"

Slowly, leaning heavily on the young man, Ziva struggled to her feet, her legs tingling as the blood rushed back into them. Clearly pleased with that
result, the man supported her with his arms and put his face close enough to hers that she could smell the sugar of his last meal,

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked loudly and she flinched,

"Ziva David...I'm a federal agent at..."

The words died in her throat, having been a habitual spiel she had learnt after three years in this country. Except she wasn't an NCIS agent anymore, she wasn't even sure if she was in the country legally or not. She closed her eyes and feigned exhaustion, to the worried cries of the
crowd around her, several fingers pressed into her neck and her wrists to make sure she was still alive. She pretended not to feel them as she tried to decide her next move.

Even with the adrenalin rush, there wasn't a snow's chance in hell of her outrunning the cop; she reckoned her Mossad training alone had got her out of the river. She had no identification on her, but if she went to the hospital or police station they could pull up her file.

And find out that she was...what? A Mossad agent in the country illegally, formerly NCIS but, even if they knew what that was; there was no guarantee that Vance would be the agent to come get her. It might be Gibbs, Gibbs who she had tried to make choose between her and Tony, Gibbs who she had lied to again and again so that Mossad could hold all the cards in the game.

It hurt, but she couldn't trust completely in NCIS.


The FBI or the CIA on the other hand, they were so desperate for any information they could get in the War on Terror that they would roll out the welcome mat for her.

The FBI particularly would find her knowledge regarding Somalia useful.

"Can you take me to the FBI?" she asked the policeman and he looked at her nervously, she gave him the address as he helped her into the back of his police car.

"Miss, you look pretty beat up...shouldn't I take you to the hospital?"

She was in a room with windows, with a cherry blossom tree outside filled with birds.
More unreal images before her now, machines...doctors...

"I've already been" she announced, wondering if that was true, she looked to her wrist and found a medical bracelet attached. "Please...just take me to the Bureau, they'll take care of me"

Or lock her in a dark cell and throw away the key. One crisis at a time though,

"I'll need to take your statement though..." he continued, but she interrupted him,

"Once you get me to the FBI!"

She knew she sounded harsh, but her own fears were playing on her. What if she was in the country illegally? What if the terrorist cell was looking for her?

What if Gibbs was still angry with her?


The car had stopped moving and she glanced at the window to see them by a security gate,
"Who are you here to see?"

A routine enough question and before the sentence was complete several names appeared in Ziva's mind, connections from Tel Aviv, contacts she had formed while in America, but at the moment she wasn't a federal agent. She was tired, scared and wanted a familiar face to tell her it was alright.

"Fornell" she begged, "I'd like to see Fornell please"


A/N- Read and Review