"I was wondering, when I'd be seeing you in my office," Vance declared as Tony slipped in after a long case, with an old MI-6 spy being framed by Trent Kort, over something to do with an old mission. Kort was now dead, but so was Tom Morrow. It was dark outside, and Vance was about to head home, to his kids, and a lovely Nanny who was costing him a fortune, and liked to berate him about his work hours.
"Gibbs tell you," Tony asked, as he mentally debated whether to walk straight back out the door,
"Gibbs, tell me what," Vance asked, as Tony sat down at the desk.
"That I've been restless," Tony admitted. It had been going on for at least a year; things just didn't seem to fit anymore. Everyday, every case felt like he was going through the motions. "It's been Groundhog Day, in DiNozzoland,"
"I've heard whispers," Vance uttered, "You've been Senior Field Agent for over a decade,"
"I had a lot to learn," Tony declared, "And I've always been a slow learner,"
Vance smirked for just a second, knowing that DiNozzo was not a slow learner. He did know, that DiNozzo had been restless for a long time now
"What are you looking for Agent DiNozzo?" Vance asked, as he thought of current openings, including a few afloat positions.
"Honestly, I don't know," Tony answered truthfully, as his hand slipped into his pocket, where he had put Ziva's necklace, he had brought it along, as some sort of comfort blanket, crossed with good luck charm. "I do know, I don't want to go Afloat again,"
"The Marseilles office, needs a new team leader," Vance answered, the Marseilles office was not running as well as it could be, with all the tragedy surrounding it, but DiNozzo's methods were unconventional and just might work.
"I don't know," Tony uttered fidgeting in his seat, "I would like my weekends back, lead Agents don't really get weekends."
"Marseilles is one of our quieter offices, you'll mostly be dealing with drunken sailors," Vance answered, not strictly telling the truth, "And just because you're the boss, doesn't mean you've got to be like Gibbs,"
"He's like a dog with a bone," Tony uttered. There was a silence for a second, "You know what, I'll take it, it will be like Taxi, you've probably seen the remake with Gisele Bundchen, but the original was set in Marseilles,"
"How's your French?" Vance asked, ignoring the movie reference, which he did not understand, he handed Tony the manila folder, with his orders, which was just waiting for DiNozzo's signature.
"Pretty bad," Tony admitted, remembering Ziva making fun of him in Paris when he tried to order a coffee, she had stepped in, and saved him, while the cashier got frustrated, "I tried to learn once, but my teacher moved away,"
Vance watched the younger agent's eyes flicker, as he recalled his French teacher, whom Vance suspected had been former Agent David.
"There's a French immersion class held at one of the high schools, it meets in the evenings, I hear the teacher is very good," Vance uttered as he placed a business card, with an address on it, on top of the manila folder.
"I better tell Gibbs," Tony said getting up, "If I don't make it to Marseilles, it's because he's given me the mother of all head slaps,"
Vance smirked, waited a few minutes, then went home himself.
xxx
Vance had been right, Marseilles was a good fit, as soon as Tony had landed, he had felt excitement wash over him, it had been such a long time since he was excited about work.
The team he was assigned, consisted of two other agents, one Probie who was greener than McGee had ever been, and one female agent who had just returned from a stint afloat, who was adjusting to being in a team again, and felt slighted that Tony had gotten the lead agent over her. The two agents were difficult, but Tony was confident he would make good agents out of them.
The French immersion lessons, were after business hours, in a school building, which made DiNozzo's stomach knot, as it had been a very long time since he had been in a school to learn. He also suspected that since NCIS, had been the victims of a recent budget slash, that Vance was being cheap. Vance, had told him that the class was mainly occupied by refugees, and other immigrants, so Tony slipped into the back, and listened to the white noise of conversations in Arabic, Romanian, and Mandarin. The Probie Agent DeSouza, was also in the class, and talked, but DiNozzo blocked the chatter from him, out too.
He felt his mouth fall open, as he saw the teacher. He would recognize her anywhere. Her dark hair, was loose and curly and her neck looked bare without the necklace that was in his pocket. She looked good, having gained just a tiny bit of weight, probably from eating regularly, and not living off coffee, like they did in the MCRT.
"She's the best part of this class," DeSouza uttered as he smiled at the teacher. Tony said nothing to the Agent, even though he knew that a few years ago, he would have said that very sentence word for word, "I heard she teaches self-defense on Wednesdays, some sort of middle eastern martial art, but that's for women only,"
Ziva stood still as she saw Tony's face in classroom, surely she was imagining things. She shook her head, but he kept staring at her, a smile crossing his face. She took in a deep breath and greeted the class.
xxx
He had stayed seated, while the class shuffled out, slipping from their forced French, into their native tongues as they did. He had sent DeSouza to go get the car, and mentally reminded himself not to carpool to the next class. Once, it was just them in the room, he walked over to her, as she pretended to be busy with paperwork.
"Thought you might want this back," Tony uttered as he held out her necklace, she took it from him, and held it in her hand.
"Toda," she whispered. His stomach rumbled, as they fell into silence, she handed him a granola bar, which was sitting on top of her bag, "Here, you get snitchy when you are hungry,"
"Prego," he declared as he took the bar, and started to eat it, "You know the term is bitchy,"
"I was being polite," she said as she moved her eyes to the paperwork.
"Sure," he uttered, as he took another mouthful, and they again fell into a silence.
"Tony, why are you here," Ziva asked after a couple of seconds, as she looked up at him, as he messily ate the granola bar, which made her smile.
"Couldn't live without you, I guess," he uttered, watching her eyes, as they both recalled past conversations.
"We have had this conversation," Ziva whispered as she tried to work out what was happening, surely he had not been silly enough to chase her around the world a third time, "Please tell me the truth."
"Vance thought I needed to brush up on my French," he uttered, as he stepped into her personal space. She was different than she was nearly three years ago, in the farmhouse. "Marseilles needed a new lead agent, and I was getting kinda sick of the East coast winter."
"The East Coast winter is one the things I miss about D.C, I never thought I would," Ziva whispered as he admired her, the low-stress more sleep lifestyle, seemed to be working for her.
Those bags under her eyes, which once mirrored his were gone, and she slipped into smiles more easily. He found himself remembering those long nights in the farmhouse, where they had given into eight years of feelings, and given each other all of themselves.
"What else did you miss?" he asked, as she reached out and took his hand.
"You," Ziva uttered, biting her lip as she did, "I missed you."
"Could have called," he whispered. He took her other hand, and they looked each other in the eyes, and let out awkward laughter. They both smiled, as they knew that the past was the past, and whatever came next, they would tackle together.
"I should have," Ziva whispered after a few seconds, Ziva decided what needed to happen, and took a deep breath, as she decided to ask him to be in her life, "I suppose I could make it up to you. Maybe cook you dinner, fill you up, about what I have been doing, and maybe I could give you some private French lessons,"
"Fill me in," he answered, "You've reverted,"
"I always told you my French was better than my English," she replied, as DeSouza appeared in the empty classroom.
"Boss," he called out, "Eames got the bat signal,"
"I will take a rain check," she uttered,
"You got that one right," he told her, as he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, and walked away, knowing he would see her soon.
"I have always been a fast learner," Ziva answered, just before he was out of earshot.
xxx
Six weeks later, she cooked him dinner in his apartment, they had slipped into a surprisingly easy relationship; spending time at the others apartments, getting reacquainted, and occasionally he learnt some French. They had also christened the new king sized bed in his apartment, many times.
They liked to tell each other stories of what had happened while they had been apart. He learnt how Ziva went from the mess she was in the farmhouse, to a teacher. She had tried her own version of Eat, Pray, Love, which had taken her to Thailand, she ended stumbling on a prostitute trying to learn English in a bar, and had helped her out, a week later, she had stood in front of a collective of prostitutes, teaching them the important English phrases such as No condom, no sex, and some other phrases so they could watch their British soap operas with more understanding. She had ended up in France during the refugee crisis, and had started working as an interpreter and French Immersion Teacher. She also taught a self-defense class for vulnerable women, deciding to use those skills, not for harm, but to help women feel safe again. He watched the smile cross her face, as she spoke of her adventures, how she had done good in the world.
He had less exciting stories to tell, so he only told the happy ones, he told her about Victoria Palmer, Ellie Bishop, and about McGee and Delilah. He left out the deaths of Morrow and Diane, and everything else that had kept Tony up at night.
They were about to take their conversation to the bedroom, when Tony's phone started to ring.
"Director," he declared as Ziva moved off of him, so he could speak. He frowned as her weight shifted, he liked having her close. "Its 2100 here, what can I do for you?"
"This is a social call, DiNozzo," Vance declared, as Ziva cleared the plates in the background. "I'll keep it brief,"
"Thank you," Tony uttered.
"How is Marseilles working out for you?" Vance asked.
"Depends, what are you hearing?" Tony asked.
"I'm hearing good things, DiNozzo," Vance said, and he was, DiNozzo would be a good fit for Marseilles, "How are Eames and DeSouza working out?"
"We'll get good Agents out of them," Tony uttered, deciding whether to inform the director of the many near-misses with handling evidence, and their poor quality case reports, "Eventually,"
Vance let out a soft chuckle.
"And how is your French, coming along?" Vance asked.
"You were right about the teacher, she is very good," Tony answered as he turned around on the couch, and watched Ziva patter around in the kitchen, putting spices away, and loading the dishwasher. "But like I said, I'm a slow learner, so she is having to give me private lessons, you actually interrupted one."
Vance let out another laugh, for just a second. Ziva let out a chuckle as she walked toward Tony, with two glasses of wine.
"I better let you get back to your lesson," Vance declared, and he ended the call.
In his pumpkin walled office, he looked at photograph of him and Jackie, from years ago, and wondered what she would think of him helping cupid out.
xxx
Five years later, the two would return to D.C, claiming to miss the East Coast winters, with matching wedding bands, and two children in tow. DiNozzo would take over the MCRT, and Ziva would work for an NGO that helped refugee and vulnerable immigrant women settle in America. Vance would retire from NCIS, the assistant director had stepped up, and a new assistant director had been named as Timothy McGee, who was predicted to sit on the director's chair by 2025.
"Seeing as you're no longer my boss, can I ask you something?" Tony asked, as he moved to Vance, who watched his college-aged daughter laughed a little too much at a DiNozzo's new Probie's joke. Vance frowned, as the retirement party went on around him.
"What can I do for you, DiNozzo?" Vance asked as he braced himself for a question about the director's office, or why he sent DiNozzo afloat all those years ago.
"Did you know, Ziva was in Marseilles?" Tony asked, as he watched his wife speak with Delilah Fielding-McGee, probably about children, as the McSon Alexander McGee, was between Tali and Levi DiNozzo in age. "Is that why you sent me?"
"Marseilles need a good lead Agent, that is why I offered it to you," Vance said, averting his eyes and looking down and to the left "No other reason,"
"Well, thank you for sending me to Marseilles Director," Tony uttered.
DiNozzo broke away, to join his wife, and Delilah, without another word, but a massive smile on his face, remembering something Ziva had taught him about body language and lying over a decade ago.
"I'm not your director anymore, DiNozzo," Vance called out, as he moved toward his daughter, who was about to throw a drink at DiNozzo's probie, who had let his joke get out of hand.
A/N: I just want Ziva David to be happy, and alive okay.