Hi guys! So, I have another post-Season 13 Tiva Oneshot for you all! So this one was inspired by a holiday I took with friends last year to - you guessed it - Barcelona! I actually started writing this whilst we were there, and intended to finish it before coming back... but obviously that worked out so well. Anyway, at least I've managed to finish it and am posting it now... but I really hope you guys like it!

Also, I've been thinking, there's a chance that these "Tiva outside the States" things might become a series of oneshots, but I'm not too sure yet - I'll keep y'all updated if that happens.

Anyway, read on and enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I am not a native or fluent Spanish speaker; if there are any inaccuracies with regards to translation, please do not hesitate to inform me of them so that I can make the necessary corrections.

She knew. She knew that they knew. That the French Police knew, that the CIA knew; heck, that the whole of the U.S. Federal government knew.

From the moment she'd seen the man with the camera, she knew.

Tony said he'd been taking pictures of the view; that the Champs Elysees was beautiful to see and made a perfect scenic city photo, and her being in the photo and looking calmly down the Parisian street just improved the aesthetic. She hadn't hesitated to point out that the camera had been more directed at her than down the street, but he still hadn't been as concerned as she was. He thought the danger had passed, that they couldn't be found.

Ziva had known better… and packed emergency bags anyway.

And when she spotted the photographer again, this time taking photos of the street of the apartment they were staying at, she was glad that she had.

It took less than twenty-four hours for them to book flights and visas to Salamanca in North-Western Spain and leave their apartment with their daughter, leaving their remaining rent on the coffee table in their living room. As soon as they had set down in the Spanish city they rented a car, heading east towards Madrid and, eventually, Barcelona.

Barcelona. It was populated enough to be busy, but not so popular that it would be the first place anyone would think of.

Travelling there had been tough. Perhaps it would've been easier if Ziva had been travelling on her own, or even with Tony alone; but with a young child, regular breaks needed to be scheduled. The little girl needed naps, regular food and potty breaks, and a near constant supply of fluids that cost them nearly hundreds of euros.

Then again, it had been worth it to see Tony asleep on the couch in their one-bedroom hostel, with Tali fast asleep on his chest after a long day of travelling and sightseeing in an effort to keep her distracted from the long journey ahead of them.

It had taken them a good few days to drive from Madrid to Barcelona, taking a long-winded trip that passed through various towns and villages to avoid being tracked or followed, but it was easy to tell that they were in the Spanish coastal city once they reached it.

At least, the look of glee on Tony's face at the thought that they'd finally reached their destination was enough to inform Ziva that they were there.

Driving through the city, the two glanced around at the hustle and bustle of the people moving around in the sunshine; tourists shopping and sightseeing and natives visiting family and trying to sell merchandise.

"So, where to now?" Tony asked, glancing over at her from his position in the driver's seat – the two had concluded that, since she was the one federal services were looking for, it was better that he drove; after all, no one would suspect an ex-NCIS Federal Agent who had done very little, if not nothing, wrong.

Ziva took a few moments to think about how to answer his question. The first thing that came to mind was that they didn't have too much money – they probably had their savings (and anything DiNozzo Senior wanted to send to them overseas) but they didn't want to touch too much of that in case they weren't able to get jobs out there quite yet. There was also the chance that accounts could be tracked; they hadn't withdrawn all of their money in France just in case it set off alarm bells. So what they had in their pockets was what they were going to survive on for now – a few thousand Euros that they hoped wouldn't get stolen or ripped off from them by any locals or pickpockets; after all, the city was notorious for them. So that left renting large, expensive hotel rooms out of the question, and high-end apartments as well. They needed something small, something affordable, but not too cheap – they couldn't have Tali getting ill because they didn't care enough to find a place with an adequate enough health and safety rating.

The next thing was location – where would they look? They had to find a place that was crowded enough to make them seem unnoticeable, but not so crowded that they had no room to breathe. They had to be far enough into the city to have nosy neighbours, but not so far in that there was no way for them to leave if something happened. And the chances were, the further in they went the more expensive housing became, simply due to tourism and work opportunities.

And what about services? They had to be able to access places like hospitals and supermarkets easily and efficiently for safety reasons. Somewhere close to the metro to avoid constant car travel would be nice, but they couldn't be somewhere constantly busy because it would not only be a danger to a little child but the fumes would endanger her health.

All of a sudden, everything became a whole lot more complex because they had a child.

Tony noticed her hesitation right away, but didn't comment on it until a good few moments had passed. "Hey, I think I see a small café up ahead – how about we stop off there and grab something small for ourselves and Tali whilst we think about where to head next?"

It seemed like a good suggestion, and not long after agreeing Ziva found herself sitting at a cafe table with Tali on the seat beside her, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she tried to get used to the new environment. The sun outside was shining in, and the cool air conditioning in the small café warded off the summer heat that wafted in every time someone opened the door. Tony's choice of café seemed to be brilliant, though – not very crowded at all, with only a few of the locals popping in for a brief snack on the way to work or to meet up with friends. As far as she could tell, the only other people using the café's seating were an elderly couple at a table by the door, and a group of friends in their late teens taking up a couple of tables and being loud – as teens tended to be. It was enough to make them inconspicuous without making them feel claustrophobic.

Tony returned to the table with a tray, two coffees and a hot chocolate in mugs with three pastries and two sandwiches – basically a full lunch. Something that Ziva had not asked for, if the look on her face was any indication.

He ignored that and looked down at the waking girl. "Hey, Tali, you hungry?" he asked, sending Ziva a sly smile at the nod he received.

The woman huffed. "Do not use our child against me," she spoke lowly, narrowing her eyes at him. "And do not speak English too loudly – we are trying to blend in, not stand out like sore thumbs."

"It's stick out, sweetcheeks, not stand out," Tony automatically corrected, eyebrows rising as he sat down opposite them, his back to the cafe door. "And we stick out?"

"You certainly do, with your accent."

"So what, I'm meant to change my accent?"

"Or change your language."

He huffed at that, but didn't say anything more. After all, she had a point, but he didn't want to agree with it and acknowledge that she was right. Not right then. Besides, what was he supposed to speak?

His question was answered when Ziva proceeded to speak to their daughter in near-fluent French, frustrating Tony more because he knew he had a tendency to stumble over his words. Her choosing that language wasn't fair.

Tony moved to grab a pastry from the tray he'd brought over and broke it in half, handing one of the halves to Tali and smiling gently at her. The little girl looked at the food in his hands, watching it warily for a moment, before reaching out and taking it, beginning to eat it hungrily. He smiled at her, before looking up at Ziva.

"¿Qué tal en Español?1" he suggested, raising an eyebrow at her.

Ziva blinked. She'd almost forgotten that Tony was practically fluent in Spanish – that was the language he preferred, even over Italian. He'd be able to fit right in, and she would too if she could pick it up quickly. A smile grew on her face.

"¿Pensaste que pedí en Inglés?2" he teased as he gestured to the food between them, his usual grin on his face – the grin that would usually infuriate her, but now took a huge load off her shoulders. Because now there was a better chance that they would be okay.

Well, maybe not 'better chance', per se, but they could stay in the shadows, and hide in plain sight more easily.

Picking up one of the sandwiches, she took a bite before grinning back at him. "Tienes que enseñarme Español3," she pointed out, fluttering her eyelashes.

Tony chuckled, rolling his eyes at her as he moved to pick up one of the mugs of coffee. "De acuerdo, tal vez lo haré.4"

Before the two could tease each other any more, there was a call of "Maman…5" and the two turned their attentions to the ever adorable Tali, who was reaching for one of the pastries on the tray. As Tony rushed to steady the tray and get the little girl what she wanted, Ziva couldn't help but chuckle.

Like father, like daughter, she thought fondly.

It only took about an hour and a half for the small family of three to finish their food, Ziva and Tony both working to clean up the mess that was Tali once she'd devoured as much pastry and hot chocolate as her little two-year-old stomach could handle. As they ate, Tony began to teach her various phrases relating to what they were doing, such as "comida" for food, "bebida" for drink, and "café" for coffee, which he repeatedly told her she couldn't have (in both French and Spanish so that she could understand, with Ziva reinforcing it in Hebrew). By the time they were done, the little girl was randomly spouting short words in Spanish, which drew smiles from the elderly couple by the door.

"Papi,6" the little girl started, though she seemed to drift off, hesitant, not quite knowing how to say what she wanted to say next.

Tony looked down at her with a small smile as he waited patiently for her to continue, but when she didn't say anything, he decided to answer what he hoped she was going to ask anyway. "Vamos a buscar una casa,7" he told her with a bright smile – one that she readily returned.

Ziva couldn't help but smile at their interactions as they left the cafe, heading straight for the car; though she did glance around, her eyes sharp as she searched for any signs of someone – anyone – following them. Not spotting anyone, she helped Tony to buckle Tali into the car, before moving to sit in the front passenger seat. She smiled over at Tony as he started the car, before moving off and heading further into the city.

The following days were filled with sightseeing, adventuring, and apartment searching. Whilst they stayed in a relatively cheap hotel room, the two of them (along with Tali) began searching for apartments in the city, hoping to find one in a reasonable location. Tony seemed to take charge when it came to this, conversing (and most likely haggling) with the landlords and apartment owners when it came to pricing. Ziva often found herself struggling to keep up with the conversations, her eyes darting between the two as they attempted to come to some sort of agreement in every apartment they looked at.

In fact, many of the conversations appeared so heated that Ziva was actually surprised when she finally found Tony shaking hands with one of the apartment owners.

And that was how they ended up renting an apartment in northern Barcelona, not too far from the metro, but far enough away from the tourist areas to get a break and not be surrounded by people all the time. And Tali seemed more than excited about the idea of having her own bedroom, even if she was only two and Tony and Ziva didn't think her sleeping alone for the first time in a new city was a good idea.

And so, to celebrate, the family decided to head to the beach for the day. Granted, it wasn't that close, since they had to take a fairly long metro trip to get there, but once they did, Tali practically ran as quickly as her little legs could carry her towards the sand and sea.

Tony and Ziva laughed as they watched her run off, both keeping a close eye on her so that nothing happened as they set down their blankets. As soon as that was done, Tony followed his daughter, playing about in the sand and sea with her and getting them both soaked with the cool, salty water. By the time evening had come, all three of them were exhausted, sand and salt sticking to their skins as the last of the water evaporated into the cool evening air. Tony and Ziva sat beside each other, a sleeping Tali in their laps, as they watched the sea, its waves lapping against the sand rhythmically.

"Did you want this?" Ziva suddenly asked, and the sudden switch to English shocked Tony – because after all her nagging over the past few days about trying to blend in, speaking in his first language was not something he expected to do ever again.

"What…?" he asked, confused about what she was asking.

"Did you want this?" she repeated, gesturing to herself and the little girl in both their laps.

He furrowed his brows. Granted, this wasn't how he expected it to come along (he thought he'd finally settle down in the States, after all, and have a nice, fairly peaceful life), but to say he didn't want it… "Why wouldn't I want this?" he asked.

She huffed, sounding annoyed. "You do not get what I am saying," she grumbled, before turning back to the sea.

"Then explain," Tony stated simply, looking back over at the sea himself. "I won't get it if you don't explain."

She seemed to take a few moments, considering what he said, before speaking again. "Would this… would this have been what you wanted?" she asked slowly. "Living your life like this?"

"With you?"

"I mean on the run, with your daughter and… I. Without a real place to call home. Always searching, looking over your shoulder." She gave him a stern look. "Is this what you would have wanted?"

Tony looked over at her, his brows furrowed. "Well…" he started slowly, before taking a deep breath and sighing. "It certainly wasn't expected," he finally decided to say, a small smile on his face. At Ziva's unimpressed look at his response, he decided to elaborate, "I mean, life never turns out the way it should. And we're… well, our field of expertise used to mean that we were risking our lives every day. That one day we could head to the office and never return. So to be here, with a daughter, with you…" He reached over and placed a gentle, sandy hand on her cheek. "It may not have been what I wanted, but it's all I'll ever needed. "

She returned his smile tenderly, before turning her head and kissing his hand, making a sour face when her lips were met with sand and salt.

Tony grinned at her. "Well I guess that wasn't the right move, now was it, Zeevah?"

Needless to say, in the next moment, he was spitting sand out of his mouth.

Translations:

1 - Spanish - What about in Spanish?
2 - Spanish - Did you think I asked in English?
3 - Spanish - You have to each me Spanish.
4 - Spanish - Okay, maybe I will.
5 - French - Mummy
6 - Spanish - Daddy
7 - Spanish - Let's go find a house.

Again, if anything is inaccurate, please inform me so I can change it!

I hope you enjoyed that, guys! Please tell me what you think!