Ziva and Malachi walked onto the plane but it was Zara and Aaron that walked off eight hours later, adjusting their 'only to be switched on in an emergency' earwigs and pulling their coats closed against the cold January air. Malachi wrapped his arm around Ziva's shoulders as he took her bag with the other.

"You okay?" He asked mutedly. She nodded. "Okay. Come on, the hotel is waiting for us."

They unpacked what few belongings they had and hid their impressive collection of weapons before Ziva went to sit on the balcony while Malachi poured them both a drink.

"Are you alright?" He asked breaking her from her trance. She took her drink with a smile.

"It has been a while, that is all." He nodded, understanding completely. She'd been out of the game for so long, he had expected there to be at least some sort of readjustment period.

"Listen, I was thinking maybe we could just order room service for dinner tonight, give you a chance to settle into your cover before having to flaunt it." She smiled at him shyly.

"Would you mind terribly?" He shook his head as he squeezed her hand.

"Not at all." He kissed the top of her head before heading back inside. Ziva was slowly remembering why she'd enjoyed being Zara so much, Malachi was so different when he was in character; he was so sweet and so loving. He was, in short, the perfect husband. She had to force herself not to reprimand herself for that, not even three hours on the job and she was already letting her loyalty to Tony slip, but wasn't that the point? She sighed before draining her glass. She hated going undercover, everything always got so complicated.

They were sat on their bed later that afternoon, case notes and surveillance photos spread between them, a glass of red in their hands.

"Right, so, he…" Ziva pointed at one of the photos.

"Aurville Dagenais." Malachi informed her before sipping his wine.

"Aurville Dagenais, he is the one that does not know that I am supposed to be dead yes?" Malachi nodded. "That means that these three…"

"Montague Flamand, Fiacre Austin and Noël Rousseau." He pointed to them all in turn.

"They are the men who killed Zara the first time yes?" He nodded and she sighed. "Do we really want to be taking on the French?" Malachi laughed before draining his glass and lying down. "What?"

"You never questioned a mission Ziva. You just followed orders." Ziva shuffled all of the paperwork back into various envelopes and slid them into the lockable draw before lying next to him.

"That was a long time ago Mal." She sighed. He turned to face her; her voice was thick and her eyes glossy. He smiled gently before patting his chest. She took his offer and laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around him.

"I know." He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arm around her shoulders before covering the hand that was resting at his waist. "I know." There was something ridiculously comforting about being wrapped in Malachi's arms. Not more so than Tony's of course, because he'd always given her that, but for reasons she'd rather not delve into, that night there was no where else she'd rather be.