The strangest of thoughts came to you when you were lying in a hospital bed, staring up at the tiled ceiling. Ziva should know, she had spent a fair bit of time doing just that (too much time in her opinion but then again, she did hate hospitals so even a day was too much).

These thoughts rarely made much sense. It wasn't like she was thinking of the reason she had been injured or even the mission behind why she had been present in the bar in the first place. No, that would have made too much sense. Her mind was still frustratingly jumbled from the explosion anyway - head injuries tended to do that. Miraculously, no concussion but there was still a deep gash across her forehead and down the side of her eye.

Bizarrely, she was thinking of her scrabble nights and how amusing they were. A game of scrabble would be good to break up the boredom right now but that wasn't going to happen. It wouldn't be the same in Arabic or Hebrew anyway. No challenge. No real room for arguments. No banter in other languages.

Of course, thinking of the scrabble games led her to thinking of the people she played scrabble with. How was everyone? Had Liu finally graduated? Ziva was pretty sure she was set to this summer. Finally, after all these years. The young woman had finally got tired of endless education. Her original plans had been to return to China, was she still going to do that? Ziva doubted she would see her again if that was the case. Were Raphael and Francisca still bickering? What about Amelia? Was she still fed up with all their antics? Was Lucas staying sane?

It was odd, when she was working at NCIS and had to miss scrabble games Ziva didn't really think of them that much. Probably because she knew she would hopefully be able to go to the next one. The opportunity was always there. That wasn't the case when she was in Morocco. Being bored to death in this hospital. Seriously, there was nothing to do. Ziva would take NCIS cold case paperwork over this.

Oh, NCIS.

That made her think about her team. No, not her Mossad team- that really could not be referred to as a team anyway- but her NCIS team. Gibbs. McGee. Tony. Even Abby, Ducky and Palmer. She... she missed them. The feeling was odd, to say the least. Ziva was not very used to missing anyone. Missing people meant that you had formed attachments to people. And attachments to people made you vulnerable. Weak. That had been drummed into her from an early age. She did not even remember being taught it.

But even that thought did not stop her from missing them. Missing the scent of Gibbs' coffee, McGee's chattering of computer knowledge, Ducky's knowledge on, well, everything, Palmer's awkwardness and Abby's... Abbyness? Was that a thing? She missed all of that. Of course, she missed her partner as well. Tony. Their banter. Their inappropriate comments. Their friendship. Everyone's friendship. Because she had made friends in America. Who would have ever thought that would happen? Definitely not her.

You know what? She was probably better off thinking about the scrabble games. Those memories hurt less. And yes, memories of NCIS hurt, and also annoyed her because they made her admit such weakness to herself. She just missed everyone. Missed their comfortable closeness. She wasn't close to anyone in Israel. Not that she would even consider it - that would be dangerous and her father would not approve. Which was also dangerous.

What wasn't dangerous was thinking of fun scrabble games. Except maybe to her boredom. Even a Hebrew one was looking appealing at the minute. If she someone managed to smuggle one in for her, would the nurses play with her?

Ziva shook her head in annoyance. That was proof that the hospital was getting to her. She was having all sorts of crazy thoughts. Or maybe she had a more serious head injury after all...

Ziva was brought out of her thoughts by her hospital room door opening.

"You are awake this time," came a teasing voice.

With an eye roll, she propped herself up properly.

"Excuse me for actually sleeping when I am tired."

"There's never time for that," the man said solemnly.

She sighed, recognising the look on his face.

"What has happened since I have been in here?"

This was another reason why she hated hospitals; she missed what was going on in the outside world.

"What, no proper shalom?"

She gave him a look. "Michael, what is going on?"

Michael Rivkin sighed and shook his head without answering her.

"Michael."

"Vargo's friend never showed," he admitted.

What? A man that was at the centre of two intelligence agencies was not where intelligence put him to be? What had gone wrong?

"So, the assignment at the bar was pointless," she said in disgust.

Did he know how awkward it was to move in that damn dress? Never mind the fact that she got blown up for no good reason. And the time wasted...

"Seems like it," he admitted.

Ziva sighed noisily and closed her eyes. Her cut was throbbing again but she wasn't going to admit to that. She may not react to painkillers like Tony did but that didn't mean she liked how they made her feel. And she needed her mind kept sharp. And there she was thinking of NCIS again. She really was bad at this.

"How are you feeling?" Michael asked, scanning her face.

"Bored," she muttered.

That made him chuckle warmly.

"Ah, behave, Ziva or the nurses will never let you leave."

"I will just escape."

"Of course, you would," he said fondly. "But I do not think that counts as having a low profile in Morocco."

She gave him am unimpressed look. "I got blown up, Michael. That is pretty much the opposite of having a low profile."

Another laugh.

"Also," she continued. "The quicker I am out of here, the quicker we can continue."

"Rest, Ziva," Michael told her, leaning over to kiss her on the head (her sore side too). "Will we will leave soon and be able to get him."