Okay, so according to my calculations, providing that this is set in season 5 like it most probably is and they have just celebrated New Year 2008, Ziva will have turned 25 just after Venice and before the Elsie and Mina case started. I spent a while (for an A-level maths student it took me a surprisingly, and worryingly, long time) figuring out how old she would have been if she were born on the 12th November 1979, like Coté de Pablo was, until I checked on NCIS wiki to find that Ziva was actually born on 12th November 1982, however I first read it as 1981, and so calculated her age to be a year older than she was. That means Ziva was 22 when she came to work at NCIS if we take the dates to be the date the episodes originally aired.

Just some fun facts. They do not really matter, just proof that her age in this is sound.

Unlike the last chapter, I had no problem writing this one. I actually had a lot of fun playing with it, and so I have it complete already.

XXXV. And Those Who Were Seen Dancing Were Thought To Be Insane By Those Who Could Not Hear The Music.

"I've missed you." Tony nuzzled his face into Ziva's hair as they sat curled together on the couch, a film playing quietly in the background. Alison and Dave had picked the girls up earlier that evening.

"I have missed you too, Tony." She sighed sleepily, her head resting above his heart and her hand lying next to her face on his chest.

"Have you thought about any parts of the wedding yet?"

"I want to be married before the twins are born."

"I like that idea. How soon?"

"End of March? Then there is a possibility that I will still be able to find a dress that will fit me." She mumbled.

"Hey, you will look beautiful even if you turn up in jogging bottoms and a hoodie." He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

"Do you think we can reserve a hotel in such short notice, I mean, three months?"

"Hm…well, I have already made enquiries at the Adams House…I thought you might say you wanted the wedding sooner rather than later." He grinned. "And using the influence bestowed upon me by being Anthony DiNozzo's son, I can have any date I want for my wedding. The one good thing my father has ever done for me." He muttered the last part. "So it really is up to you."

"It is up to both of us." She entwined her fingers with his. "What about our first dance?"

"I thought you might have forgotten about that element." He groaned. "You're gonna be six months pregnant, surely you shouldn't be dancing…?"

"Tony, I will be fine. I like to dance."

"I don't know…can't we just sway to some music?" He whined like a child.

"No." She sat up and pouted. "I like to dance."

"But I don't."

"And I do not like wearing dresses, but I will be." She looked at him, smiling softly and running her hands through his hair. She leant forwards and brushed her lips up, across his cheekbone before pressing kisses all along his jawbone. "Please? For me?" She murmured quietly and he whimpered slightly.

"Yes. Anything for you." She pulled back and grinned. "Aw, Ziva! That's cheating. You know I can't resist it when you do that."

"Yes. That is why I did it." She shrugged, the smug grin still brightening her eyes. "I know someone who can choreograph a dance and teach it to us. I will phone him tomorrow since Jenny has told you to stay off with me. I am honestly fine."

Tony ignored her comment about her health, not agreeing but not wanting an argument. "What about music?"

"We can talk about that once you get better at dancing."

"How do you know I'm not already good at dancing?"

"Are you?"

"Well…"

"I thought not." She grinned and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and shifting so she was straddling him. "Bedroom?" She whispered, their lips breaking apart momentarily as she spoke before they replaced themselves. He stood up and let her wrap her legs around him. He fumbled for the remote to turn the TV off, carrying her out of the lounge, hitting the light switch as they left the room and he navigated their way up the stairs.


"Jesus, Ziva, you really do have contacts for everything." Tony muttered as they walked into the empty dance studio. Mirrors lined two of the four walls, the other two were painted white. The walls combined with the sprung pale wood flooring and the lighting gave the room a light, airy feel. "This place looks expensive. How much is this going to cost, just out of interest?"

"Nothing. José will not charge us." She whispered, slipping her shoes, coat and bag off and beginning a simple warm-up at the wooden barre lining the longer of the blank walls.

"Where is José?" The jealousy was evident in his voice and Ziva smiled at it.

"He said to warm up if he was not here when we arrived and he will be here in a few minutes." She glared at Tony when he stood staring at her, still wearing his coat and shoes. They were both wearing gym clothes, Ziva in leggings and one of his baggy Ohio State t-shirts and Tony in his NCIS gym kit. "Stop staring at my ass Tony and start warming up." She growled as she rolled down, stretching the back of her neck.

"It's a very beautiful ass, Ziva. It needs admiring." He grinned.

"Oh, I agree whole-heartedly." An accented male voice said from behind him and both Tony and Ziva turned around, completely different expressions on each of their faces. Tony's was an expression of anger, jealousy, horror and a whole mix of other emotions, whereas Ziva beamed and walked over to the Hispanic looking man. He was tanned and he had short, jet-black hair. She kissed each of his cheeks and hugged him. Tony was fuming. Who was this guy, just walking in and complementing his fiancée's ass and then kissing her cheeks?

"It has been a long time."

"That it has, Ziva. I wonder, you have heard of this wonderful thing known as a phone, have you not?"

"José, my work keeps me busy, you know that."

"I did not even know that you were in America though." He threw his hands up as Ziva chuckled slightly. Tony coughed, alerting them to his presence.

"Anyone going to do introductions?"

"José, this is my fiancé Tony." Ziva walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "I still love you, Tony. You do not need to get jealous." She whispered in his ear before pressing her lips to his jawbone.

"He was checking out your ass."

"Tony, you used to check out the ass of every woman who walked past you." She kissed him. "Come on. I want our wedding day to be perfect, and that means you learning to dance."

"Okay, but look, I don't want you to over exert yourself. You've literally just been discharged from hospital."

"Tony, you watched me each the bowl of fruit salad this morning, did you not?"

"Yes."

"And did I get a full night of sleep last night?"

"I didn't notice you waking up."

"Right. I am feeling fine at the moment. I am going to be fine." She patted his chest, took his hand and turned back to José, tugging Tony along with her.

"Everything alright?" He asked, standing up from his stretches.

"Fine. Tony." He held his hand out, keeping Ziva's clasped firmly in his other.

"So, you are getting married, yes?" The dancer grinned as he shook the NCIS agent's hand.

"Yeah."

"And you are needing to have a first dance?"

"That is what we were hoping for, José."

"Well, I will see what I can do. When was the last time you danced, Ziva?"

She laughed. "When I was in Guatemala. The last time I saw you."

"Oh, my Ziva, we were twenty. That was a lifetime ago." He laughed, for a moment lost in another time – five years ago – and another country. "How about you? Can you dance?" He looked to Tony, suddenly snapped out of his daze. Tony stuck his bottom lip out and wiggled his hand in a so-so gesture. "So that is a no then. Oh, Ziva, you do give me the hardest of missions. When is the wedding?"

Ziva bit her lip. "End of March." José visibly paled. "There is another slight…complication…"

"Oh, God." He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"By then I will be six months pregnant." He froze. Did the maths.

"Congratulations." He smiled and hugged her. "My little Ziva is all grown up."

"I am older than you by two months."

"But you will always be a baby sister to me." He smiled. "Has she told you how we met?"

"No. She hasn't." Tony was suddenly curious, jealously all but forgotten.

"I was visiting Tel Aviv, my father was there on business, and I was walking through a market square. I was lonely, missing my friends and I was not having such a great day, and then I see this girl, my age, just dancing in the street. There was no music, and nobody was paying any attention to her, but there she was, performing a beautiful, elegant ballet routine. I stood and watched her, shocked that nobody else cared. And I waited for her to finish, handed her money and she yelled at me for watching her. I thought she was a street performer."

"The dance studio that I used to dance at was blown up. I had nowhere else to go so I found a quiet street corner and danced there."

"And after that we were immediate friends." He grinned.

"Well, I would not say that…we did not get on at all, you kept insisting we go out every night."

"And you kept saying that your father would not allow it."

"Which he did not. I was fourteen."

"The way I remember it you still snuck out every night I was there."

"I think your memory is flawed." She shrugged and turned away, the discussion over. José just laughed.

"Still as stubborn as ever."

"Are you going to help or shall I have to find someone else who will teach us to dance?"

"I doubt you would find anyone who will do it for free." He walked over to the barre and started stretching. "Especially not with the time restraints and other 'complication' as you so quaintly put your pregnancy." Tony was quite enjoying the sibling-like exchange he was witnessing as Ziva started copying José, showing her full flexibility.

"Tony, are you going to join us?"

"I don't think I can do that." He looked at the way the two dancers were contorted into an uncomfortable looking position and tilted his head.

"Try, Tony, and you may be surprised. Your body can do more than you think."

"Yes, Master Yoda." He bowed to José before hurrying to stand behind Ziva. He tried to imitate her movements, getting mild success when she turned and helped him, coaxing his body to move in more fluid motions and angles.


"You have not lost your touch." José smiled as Ziva rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles, walking into the centre of the large room.

"I still practice on the odd occasions." She smiled.

"When?" Tony frowned. He had never actually seen Ziva dance before. He had known her to mention doing a little ballet as a child, but until seeing her he hadn't realised how good she actually was. He knew she was flexible, it was hard not to, but she moved so smoothly, even when just simply warming up and stretching.

"Have you ever been down to the gym at work and it has been locked?"

"Yeah, but I thought it was just Palmer and Lee." He shrugged. "There was never any music."

"Were you not listening earlier? I do not need to have music. It is all up here." She smiled and tapped her temple.

"Photographic memory, of course." He smiled and kissed her. "My beautiful Little Ninja can dance too. Maybe I shall have to stop calling you My Ninja and start calling you My Ballerina." Ziva raised her eyebrows, hooked her leg behind his and knocking it out from underneath him, used his arm to lower him carefully, face down, onto the floor. She crouched next to him, keeping his arm twisted behind him, and moved her mouth next to his ear.

"Are you so sure of that, My Little Hairy Butt?" She purred. He rolled over, pulling her down on top of him.

"That was impressive. I'm undecided now. I think I like ninja better. Maybe if we have a little girl I can call her My Little Ballerina." Her hair brushed against his chin and her breath tickled his cheek. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips and grinned.

"We shall see." She hopped up and extended a hand for him. José had been watching with an amused expression.

"You two look good together. You have contrast, and yet you have similarities. It is beautiful to look at. Like a piece of artwork." He smiled as they straightened themselves out. "I am guessing you will be wanting a waltz. Do you have any music in mind?"

"No, not yet." Tony shrugged. "But I think it should be something original – different."

"Okay. I think I can sort something. We can sit down at some point and organise music." He smiled again. Tony noticed that the man was nearly always smiling. He was beginning to like the guy, he had an optimism that seemed to brighten the room, much like Abby but with more self control and tranquillity. "But for now, we need to think about some actual dancing."

"You mean that wasn't it?" Tony joked.

"No, do you know how a waltz works?"

"I think I should see an example first." He shrugged. His initial apprehension to let Ziva near José had dissipated when he saw how much like brother and sister they were. There was no fear of the handsome Hispanic man stealing his fiancée. José walked over to a sound system in the corner and placed a CD in the reader, turning the volume up. Shostakovich's Waltz No. 2 from Jazz Suite No. 2 started playing on the surround sound. Ziva took his hand and they began moving in time with the music, the soft rise and fall of their steps reminding Tony of a carousel. He applauded when they were finished, walking over to Ziva from where he had moved to lean against the wall so he was out of the way. "That was beautiful." He wrapped his arms around her. "Is it my turn?"

"You think you can do something like that?"

"Well, I think I can give it a go." He shrugged and nodded to José, who was moving to change the CD. Strauss's Blue Danube came on and he smiled, holding his hand out for her to take and placing his hand on her back. They started slowly as Tony led the waltz, careful to keep in time with the music. Ziva stared at him, keeping her eyes on his and he gazed back, a calm smile on his face. They sped up slightly to stay with the music and he guided her across the dance floor, staring into one another's eyes the whole time. As the music slowed to a halt he bent his neck down and caught her lips in a gentle kiss before she could say anything.

"You did not tell me you could dance." She whispered when the initial shock was gone.

"You did not give me a chance." He ran his thumb along her lips.

"Who taught you?"

"My mother insisted I learn to dance. She said it would come in handy one day."

"And has it ever?"

"It just did." He pulled her tight to him and rested his cheek on the top of her head and sighed softly. "She would have liked you, Ziva. She would have liked you a lot."

The quote from the title was said by Friedrich Nietzsche, who, as we all know, said 'That which does not kill us makes us stronger' and died in an insane asylum. (Except that Tony was wrong (I know, it hurts to say it!) and Nietzsche, although insane and did spend time in a psychiatric clinic, died at his sister's home under her care on the 25th August 1900)