AN: This is set in S4 E1 Shalom

Today really wasn't going to well for her. Ziva would be the first to admit that. Just not to anybody else. But she could admit that to herself. Being tracked down by the FBI, she kind of had to. Facing the truths of your situation meant that you had more of an opportunity to come on top. And she always came out on top. Sometimes only after leaving a literal trail of bodies in her wake but still on top.

Ziva did not exactly consider being on the run from the Israeli embassy, her father and the FBI as being 'on top'. Or being anywhere remotely close to it.

She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm her extremely shaken nerves. It somewhat worked, though she could still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

This was definitely not how Ziva had planned her day out. No. Not at all. It was meant to be a simple sort of day. Go on her pre-work run, then to work, wind Tony up with McGee, hopefully have a case to prevent a 'campfire' and then meet up for a scrabble game (and hopefully win this one). See? Simple.

It did not even go anywhere near that. Okay, she did manage to go for her run. It had been a good run, one of her favourite routes in fact. Then she was doing the whole driving to work thing. That was sort of interrupted by witnessing an assassination by a Mossad Officer of all things. Ziva was not so naive to think that there weren't Israeli operatives on American soil but she was surprised for one of them to do something so blatant. Officer Eschel was Mossad, for crying out loud! They were meant to be sneaky, undetectable. Like a ninja, as Tony would say. Not carry out an assassination in broad daylight while on allied soil!

Oh, she would really like to be confronting Namir right about now but no, she had to be in hiding instead. Stupid FBI. Stupid Israeli Embassy.

Speaking of the Israeli Embassy, or rather, Officer Bashan, that was something else that she had to deal with. It was not as urgent as her current situation but something had to be done about it. Her father could not be spying on her and just expect to get away with it!

Fiddling with the pieces of her phone, Ziva pulled a face at it. She did not want to think of how many texts and phone calls she had missed but she couldn't exactly leave her phone on. McGee had proved that even having the battery in the phone was enough to track someone. And she certainly did not want to be tracked. Though, having the team know where she was would be...

No. Ziva shook her head to stop that line of thinking. The team could not know where she was. They would want to help and she was not going to let them get into trouble on her behalf. And they would. This situation was a whole lot bigger than NCIS.

Not that Ziva knew what to make of the situation anymore. She had been convinced, so convinced, that her father was behind the assassination, even if Mossad "officially" wasn't. Her little trip to the Israeli Embassy had confused that matter. She wasn't sure who to believe. Bashan looked and sounded so earnest but he still could be lying. Anyone would lie for her father. He was Eli David. You did as you were told when it came to him. And Bashan was his man.

She was going to have to move soon. It was not a good thing to stay in one place for too long when you were a fugitive. An alleged fugitive, she corrected. Either way, she should not let her guard slip, not forget her training.

She would not be contacting anyone. Not one of her scrabble friends nor NCIS. Even an innocent text saying she wouldn't be making the game tonight was far too risky.

Was it strange that the only thing she felt regretful about was the definite possibility of missing a silly scrabble game? It was quite ridiculous how she was starting to depend on these games. They were becoming a habit even if they didn't really have a routine. And habits were not good things to have in her profession. It made you exposed. Kind of like making a word that very obviously could make many other words by other players.

Ziva made an impatient noise and shook her head. Thinking about scrabble was not something she should be doing! It was pointless. Extremely so as it was in no way a priority right now.

The priority was figuring out how to clear her name and apprehend Eschel. The order of which that happened in was unimportant. Although, having her name cleared would lessen the chances of her getting shot, which was always a good thing. The only problem was that she could not think of how to get both of those things done without contacting NCIS.

"S'Emek!" she swore, hands twitching as if she wanted to strangle something.

Which she did. Preferably Eschel.

But she did not know how she was going to be able to do that. She had no idea of his whereabouts or what he might be planning next. No way of tracking gim down without NCIS resources. She could not just go out there and start looking! There had to be a plan!

Another growl of frustration left her as she dropped the pieces of her phone. Thankfully, it didn't break. Absentmindedly, Ziva slotted it back together.

What she needed was something or someone like NCIS, or who thought like NCIS, who could be trusted. Who could help her.

She eyed her phone, now complete in her hand. Maybe there was one call she could make. Just one. Or more like two. It was a large shot, a final resort, but she was getting desperate.

And she would rather like to make that scrabble game.