Chapter 3: Did I Take You by Surprise

"Look what this stupid girl did!" came the shrill sound of Mandy's voice, obviously very angry and very pained as Ziva returned with both Tim and DiNozzo in tow. After he'd gotten dressed and left the dance studio, he'd run to Tim's room where he'd called for the paramedics, and then asked Tim to come along, stating that he could help calm Mandy down. Mandy, Ziva thought. So at least one mystery name was solved.

"It was an accident!" Ziva couldn't help how her accent became more noticeable when she was stressed, and it seemed that Mandy wasn't too keen on foreigners. Or maybe it was just guests in general. "Besides, you were not looking where you were going, either."

"Do you know what you've just done?"

"Well it seems pretty obvious that you have broken your leg, and for that, I am sorry. Truly," Ziva replied earnestly, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. She'd already apologized, but for some reason, it didn't seem to be enough, no matter how many times she said it. She wasn't usually so clumsy, and she'd never physically caused an injury to anyone before, even though she'd been trained – at her father's insistence – in several types of martial arts.

"No, you don't understand at all," Mandy continued, the sharpness of her voice stabbing at Ziva's conscience, making her feel even worse about the situation. "Tony has an audition next month in New York, and I'm supposed to be his partner." Ziva's eyes widened at the mention of DiNozzo's first name, but said nothing in response, and Tony rolled his eyes exasperatedly at his partner. He was annoyed that she not only spilled about the audition, which could lead to him being fired from the resort, but that she'd also given the Israeli Princess his name, although he had to admit, he didn't know why that part annoyed him so much. Maybe because it was one less thing he could hold over her head.

"Mandy!" His admonishment was sharp, and Ziva noted how Tim seemed surprised at the revelation, as well. So this was some big secret she was not supposed to know.

"If you are worried that I will … what is the phrase … spill the beans, you do not have to worry. I do not want to get involved," Ziva stated matter-of-factly, and turned to leave.

"You can't just leave," spat Mandy, the pure hatred in her voice making Ziva want to do exactly that. "You caused this mess, so what are you going to do about it?" Ziva again noticed how Tony seemed annoyed with what his partner was saying, as if he didn't want her speaking on his behalf. What was it with him, anyway? Why was this such a big deal?

"Well there has to be some other way, can he not flow solo?"

"It's fly solo and no, I cannot, miss princess," Tony finally spoke up, obviously frustrated at the situation. Although Ziva could tell he was annoyed, he was several times more polite about it than Mandy was. Ziva really tried to imagine what kind of pain she must be feeling and how that must be affecting her mood, but she couldn't seem to empathize fully with the woman. I would never be this rude to someone I didn't even know.

Ziva glanced over to Tony, noting that his face was lined with worry, and she felt an entirely new wave of guilt hit her. She suddenly felt less sorry about injuring Mandy than she did about hurting Tony's chances with this audition thing. She tried to catch his eye, to convey some sort of apology to him, but he wouldn't look at her. She stared at the ground, feeling insignificant.

Tony noticed how Ziva's attitude had shifted when she realized the full implications of Mandy's injury, but he couldn't worry about her right now. He was seriously wondering what he was going to do about what he'd considered the biggest chance of his career suddenly slipping away. These auditions didn't come along very often, and he'd missed an earlier shot due to circumstances beyond his control already. He couldn't do this again, spend another summer in this hellhole of a resort waiting for a chance to arrive. He started to let his thoughts wander even further when Mandy's voice broke him from his reverie.

"Yeah, so why don't you just call your fairy godmother and have her fix everything, princess," Mandy spat at Ziva, her anger seemingly intensifying with every moment. Was she always like this, Ziva wondered, or was it just the pain talking? "Or do you only throw money at your problems to make them go away?"

Pissed off at being treated like a child, Ziva again turned to walk away from the scene, deciding that the argument with this partner of Tony's wasn't worth it. She knew well enough to be the bigger woman and not cause a scene, which is more than she could say for this woman who was easily half a dozen years her senior. Resisting the urge to make an obscene gesture – or worse, shout an expletive, Ziva started to head back toward her guest house, a scowl making its way to her face, when Tim shouted, "Wait!"

Returning to a neutral expression, Ziva turned around and faced the three friends, surveying the scene. Mandy was still lying on the ground, her face contorted with both anger and pain, and Tony was trying to get her to lie down. "Yes?" she asked, wondering what else they could possibly need her for.

"Maybe she can do it. The, uh … the audition," Tim answered sheepishly. Ziva noticed how Tim seemed uncomfortable talking about the audition, and realized that it was probably not ever meant to be known by anyone outside of Tony and Mandy, even though Tim was supposedly their friend.

"What?" three incredulous voices asked simultaneously.

"You taught her to move, I, uh … I watched you guys. At the party. And I've seen you teach." Pausing to gather his thoughts, Tim continued, "I'm sure you can teach her to dance with you, right?" He was blushing profusely, and Ziva couldn't help but admire how Tim constantly pushed himself past his comfort zone, knowing that he was timid but willing to try to be assertive when he was around his friends.

"Tim, I don't think you understand how important this audition is," Tony responded, annoyed.

"Maybe he would, if you had mentioned it to him," Ziva came to his defense, much to Tim's relief. She could see that Tony often gave him a hard time, and it didn't seem fair, from her vantage point, especially considering the fact that he'd been left out of the loop.

"Okay, Miss Fancypants, I'll explain it." He stood up and walked toward her, and she bristled at his condescending tone, tightening up her fists at her sides and taking in a deep breath to keep from knocking him on his ass. Between Mandy's complete rudeness – despite Ziva's repeated apologies – and Tony's constant insinuation that she was stupid, her irritation had started to reach its peak. "This audition with one of the most prominent dance companies in New York could get me everything I've ever wanted, which is to be paid to perform professionally, and even to compete at an international level. This is my entire future. I can't just throw anyone around the floor and hope to impress the panel."

"So you are saying that you do not think I can do it, when you have not even given me a chance to show you whether or not I can dance." I do not know why I am getting offended, she thought. It wasn't like she was a professional-caliber dancer.

"Can you?" She had taken dance for a while when she was younger, but his skepticism and downright patronizing attitude kept her from mentioning it. If he'd give her the chance, he'd figure it out soon enough.

"Try me," she challenged, stepping closer to him, facing him toe-to-toe and looking him square in the face. As with their dance a few nights ago, there was hardly any distance between their faces, and Ziva felt herself flush involuntarily at his closeness. If he noticed, he gave no indication.

"Can you seriously stop fucking arguing about whether or not prissy over there can dance and get me the hell off this road?" Mandy interrupted, earning a glare not only from Ziva, but from Tony, as well. Tony stepped back a few paces and turned his head toward his partner.

"Mandy, the paramedics are on their way," Tony started, rolling his eyes. "Or we could leave you here and discuss this somewhere else," he offered with a smirk. She didn't respond, mollified, and silence settled over the group for several minutes. Ziva wanted to leave, but felt like she was now part of some decision that was in progress. Tony was lost in thought, his brow furrowing as he looked out at the horizon, and Tim paced nervously, looking up every few seconds in the hopes that the ambulance would be on its way.

"So, are you going to let her try?" Tim broke the silence, and Tony's head snapped toward Ziva, who was looking at him expectantly. There was a part of her that really wanted him to say yes, he'd give her a shot, and another part of her that really wanted him to say no so she could go back to her room, shower, and forget this morning ever happened.

His eyes scanned her from head to toe, sizing her up, and a slight shiver went through her body at the thought of him checking her out. Not to be outdone, however, she returned the gaze, pausing briefly at his midsection with a smirk, just long enough to unnerve him. It was clear that he wasn't used to being ogled like a piece of meat.

When he didn't respond, she added, "You're intimidated."

He scoffed, responding, "Please. I think it's the other way around, Princess Ziva." The way he emphasized her name irritated her, but it was nice to finally hear him say it, she realized. Even with princess attached to it.

"So then there is no reason not to give it a chance," she answered. She wasn't entirely sure she could learn to dance well enough to impress a professional panel of judges in a short period of time, but she wasn't going to tell him that. The fact that he was willing to dismiss her entirely was what made her want to do it. There was nothing she enjoyed more than proving people wrong about her capabilities. It had worked wonders for her when she'd served in the IDF. Petite and young, she'd hardly been taken seriously, until she managed to knock three male superiors on their asses during a sparring session.

"Oh really, you're going to play that card with me?" She furrowed her brow in confusion, and he realized that she didn't understand the expression. "Never mind. No. I won't allow it."

"Well, what else are you going to do? You have already said you that cannot do it by yourself."

"I can get a dancer from the city to help me out," he answered with an uncertain smile, and Ziva couldn't help but notice how his voice didn't carry its usual confidence.

"You can't afford that," Mandy interjected snidely, grimacing through her pain as she could hear the faint sound of a siren in the distance. Finally. "You taught me to dance, you might be able to teach her." Ziva was shocked to hear Mandy jumping to her defense, however uncertain she sounded, but she didn't show it. She merely raised her eyebrows at Tony questioningly.

He sighed, exasperated. "Fine. I'll give you a try. As soon as the paramedics get her loaded up, you're coming with me to the studio. We've got a lot of work to do. And if it doesn't work, you," he gave a cursory nod at Ziva, "are going to help me figure out another solution. This audition is important. I need you to be committed to helping me. Understand?"

Ziva nodded. She hadn't exactly set out to become DiNozzo's – no, Tony's – new partner when she went out for a jog this morning, and the man absolutely drove her crazy, but she couldn't help the way her body flushed with anticipation at the thought of feeling those strong arms around her again, even if it was meant to be more like a business transaction than a romantic entanglement.

She knew she was in too deep, and it was unlikely that he wanted anything more than to pass this audition that he had going on, but she didn't care. He looked aggravated, though, and not for the first time, she felt terrible about having been clumsy enough to knock Mandy out of commission. Even though it had been unintentional, Mandy had been so rude to her after they'd collided that Ziva almost felt kind of glad that she was injured. It was as though a strange sort of justice had been served.

The ambulance finally pulled up, and without speaking Tony nodded to Ziva as if to say, "Shall we?" She puffed out a breath, blowing a hair off her face, and nodded back, walking silently beside him on the way to the dance studio.

For the second time that morning, Ziva was at the dance studio. Although the dancers weren't treated very well, she had to admit that Vandenberg had given them more than adequate space for their purpose, and although the boss had undoubtedly thought he was punishing them by keeping the studio secluded on the far end of the resort, he had actually been doing them a favor. They were able to play whatever music they needed and not worry about disturbing anyone. It was just Tony and Ziva in the large room, as Tim had been kind enough to go with Mandy to the hospital.

"So I guess we should get started here, if I'm going to teach you to dance well enough to be my audition partner in a little more than a few weeks." He looked doubtful, and Ziva could see the worry and tension in the way he furrowed his brow as he tied his dance shoes. He'd run upstairs to change into clothing that was more suitable for dancing, and had re-emerged wearing a tight t-shirt and a pair of pants that left little to the imagination. She had already discarded her sweaty running shirt, and was standing in the studio in just her sports bra and shorts.

"I took dance classes when I was younger, you know," she offered, feeling the awkwardness wash over her. "Ballet," she added as an afterthought, shrugging her shoulders before moving her legs into fifth position, her arms gracefully curved in front of her in first position. The position felt unnatural after all this time, but she ignored the feeling.

Tony nodded curtly, grinding his teeth. "How long?"

"About four years, before my father decided it was a waste of time," she responded, trying not to let her bitterness surface. If Tony noticed, he didn't show it. She didn't know him that well, but he didn't seem like the type to let something like that go, in fact, he seemed to relish finding those little things that would get under her skin. This dance thing must be really important to him, she realized.

"How are you in heels?"

"Excuse me?" Tony was amused by the look of utter puzzlement on her face. He would have to try to confuse her more often.

"This is a ballroom dance. You'll need to be in heels," he explained. "I can send Tim or someone to pick you up a pair from a dance store in a few days." When you're ready, he didn't add, but Ziva could tell from his expression exactly what he meant.

"I can do anything you want me to do in heels," she challenged, her voice lowering to a sultry tone. If he intended to underestimate her, she would do everything in her power to keep him off balance for it. Tony's face flushed, and he paused for just a moment before shaking himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. Ziva gloated inwardly at the way his eyes had glazed over, knowing that his thoughts were not at all innocent. We can both play, she thought.

"Okay, that's good to know then. But for now, take your sneakers off and just dance barefoot, and let's get into it." She reached down to take her running shoes off, then her socks, stuffing them into the toes, and walked across the room to set them against the wall and out of the way. She crossed back toward him, stopping with several feet still between them.

He crossed toward her, reaching for her arms as he drew near. "This is the closed position, and your arms should be here," he started, placing her arms into position one at a time, "and you need to maintain a tight frame while we are dancing. Got it?"

Ziva nodded, and he continued with the instruction, walking her through some of the basics of ballroom dancing. It was completely different from ballet, and she realized she would have to learn an entirely different set of rules and techniques. Tony gave her corrections as he glided her across the floor, leading her in just a basic step to get her used to being led around the floor. She stepped on his toe once, and apologized, then she miscounted, and apologized again. "Look at me," he corrected, noting her tendency to look down at her feet. "Don't mouth the counts," he added, and she parted her lips slightly and concentrated on counting only in her head.

The heat between them was becoming overwhelming, but she felt like she was starting to get a feel for this type of dancing. She stepped on his toe again then, and she felt herself blushing slightly. Perhaps I do not quite have the feel of it, she realized, and Tony let her go, crossing the room to change the music. He put on a slower song that had a similar rhythm, and reached his arm out to her, inviting her to dance.

Determined not to screw up again, Ziva slid into his arms and gazed into his eyes, concentrating on the movement. The slower beat seemed to help, and after several songs, Ziva felt that the movement was becoming more natural and that she didn't have to concentrate nearly as much, which led to her focus wandering to other things, like the way the hand on her waist tightened when he pulled her into a partnered spin for the first time, or the way his gaze never left hers. He seemed to lead not just with his body but his eyes, and she allowed herself to get lost in him as he pulled her around the floor, the slower rhythm making every movement seem more significant somehow.

Another song started, and although the music was still slower than they'd started with, Tony was pleased with her progress. Tony started to introduce more complicated steps into their dance, helping her with some footwork that involved kicking one of her legs around his, learning to do a turn sequence that she nearly fell out of the first time, and even stepping out of the frame and back in again on the music. He hadn't yet started to teach her any specific ballroom dances, let alone the choreography, but she was doing quite well just with improv.

"You're a quick study," he said after a while, pleased with how easy it was to lead her around the floor. Ziva was a feisty and rather stubborn young woman, but she was a pleasure to dance with, which he found surprising and rather intriguing. She didn't seem the type who would be easy to lead, in fact, he had been certain he would have to wrest control from her at some point. But he hadn't.

Ziva smiled at his praise, but it faded quickly when she responded, "I have not had the luxury of being slow at anything."

"What do you mean?" Tony cocked his head to the side, then added, "Try to do the spin out and back in again, faster this time." She obliged, twirling away from him and back into his arms. He observed her form at every opportunity, making mental notes of what types of steps she performed well and which she would need to work on. Her arms, he noticed. They would need to focus on the way she carried her arms.

"My father expects a lot from me. I am to follow in his footsteps. I start medical school in the fall."

"Med school," He repeated. Ziva was full of surprises. "Smart princess," he added, earning him a glare that, if he were being honest, could have turned many a man into a pile of goo. He briefly wondered what would happen if Ziva were to look at Tim with that face, and he smirked not only at the thought, but as a response to her glare. He would not allow her to think she intimidated him, even though she did. A lot, actually. "So you could have gotten your father to help instead of calling for an ambulance?"

"I could have, yes, but we are on vacation, and he does not have any supplies with him. Besides, he would …" she trailed off. How would she explain her father, and the way he would have acted toward the Americans, all of whom were resort workers? Her shoulders slumped slightly, and Tony let the question drop. Mandy was in perfectly capable hands by now, anyway.

"I understand, he's stuck up. Comes with the territory, around here," Tony said easily, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Come on let's take a break," he offered, dropping her arms and crossing to turn the music off. Tony grabbed two bottles of water from a nearby mini-fridge and sat down, handing one of the bottles to Ziva. Stuck up was one way to describe her father, Ziva mused, though it was more than simple snobbery with him.

"So, why med school?" He hadn't meant to pry, really, but he just didn't see Ziva the Doctor when he looked at the beautiful young woman who he'd spun around the floor in his arms for the last forty-five minutes.

Ziva puffed out a sigh, sadness clouding her features as she answered. "It is not my choice, really. My father is a doctor, and his father before him. It is a family tradition, and I am expected to stay in the family business. He would have preferred to have a son follow in his footsteps, but Tali – my sister – was the last child my mother could have. Women can be doctors, of course, but my father is old-fashioned. He wishes I were a son, the son who would carry his family name into the family business."

"In Israel?" Tony watched her intently as she spoke, surprised at how honest she was being with him. Ziva, too, was surprised. It was unusual that she would share this much of herself to anyone.

"Yes," came the clipped response. "I am to attend school in New York, and then return as soon as I graduate to join his practice."

Tony mulled that around in his head for a few moments, trying unsuccessfully (again) to imagine Ziva as a doctor. It just didn't suit what he knew about her. "Is that what you want to do though?"

"I have not thought about it. I do not have the choice, so there has been no need to dwell upon what might be," she said quietly. She had given up on dreams of her own many years ago. Perhaps when she'd been made to quit ballet at age nine, but she didn't recall that being the moment she'd stopped believing in her own happiness. She was certain she didn't actually want to be a ballerina, but she had never had the opportunity to explore what she really wanted.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each taking sips of their water at random intervals, Ziva toying with the lid of her water bottle, and Tony absently tapping his toe against the leg of the chair.

"Are you happy?" He broke the silence, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He had to know more about her, what made her tick. She was an enigma, a mystery he had to unravel.

"What?" She turned to look at him, noting the earnest way he was looking at her, and it unnerved her. How could this man, a man she barely knew, be this concerned for her?

"Are you happy with what you're planning to do with your life?" He offered more to the question, to clarify what he was asking.

She shrugged. "It is what it is. This is the path that I must follow." She and Tony both knew that she was avoiding answering the question, but she refused to let him disarm her this way. She kept her feelings hidden for a reason, and she didn't need to start worrying now about how her life could be different.

"Seems pretty awful," Tony responded, wanting to reach over and shake some sense into her.

"I want to please my father," she sighed, and suddenly he began to understand. He'd been through a similar situation, trying to earn his own father's approval but failing.

"That suggests you don't now," he answered, earning him another deadly glare. Before she could respond, he added, "Do you have to earn his love by going into the family business?" The shock that registered on her face lasted just a moment, giving way to indignance, and she stood up quickly, as if to distance herself from him.

"You are insufferable," she spat, and started walking toward the door.

"You won't leave. You feel guilty for hurting Mandy. And you promised," he called after her, and she stopped, realizing he was right. She might have walked out, but she'd have come back almost immediately, feeling terrible about having caused this whole mess to begin with.

"Okay, I will not leave." She turned around, took another swig from her bottle, capped it, and tossed it over to the edge of the room. "What about your family?"

Tony shook his head, chuckling as he stood up. "Let's not talk about them," he answered, beginning to understand why Ziva had been so reluctant to answer questions about her father. He felt similarly, if he was being honest.

"Then let us not talk about mine," she stated with a finality that suggested the conversation was over.

"Truce?" He asked, raising his arms as a suggestion for her to join him in the dance again.

She crossed the room, hitting the music on her way toward him, stepping into his arms, and nodded. "Truce."

They spent the next several hours dancing together, neither of them speaking much, except about the steps. Still, Tony found himself growing more and more curious about the woman who was slated to become a doctor against her will, and Ziva found herself wanting to share more of herself to him, despite having been pressured to earlier. Neither dared cross the imaginary line they'd drawn, though, but as Ziva looked up at Tony, after having been corrected for looking down for the hundredth time, she found nothing but honesty in his eyes.

I could so easily get lost in those eyes, she realized as she felt herself falling under his spell yet again, and she shuddered slightly at the thought. Tony's arms tightened around her, and she smiled slightly at the shift between them. The song ended, and they stood together for longer than was probably necessary, but neither of them made a move to pull away.

"I should probably get back to the guest house," she said quietly, finally breaking the silence between them.

He looked at the digital clock on the stereo, realizing that they had been dancing for hours. How on earth had the time gone so quickly? "Good job today," he said, stepping back from her, holding her by the hand just a second longer than necessary. He bowed his head awkwardly, and Ziva felt another shiver go through her at his reluctance to let her go.

"Tomorrow?" She murmured, already looking forward to seeing him again.

"Yeah, around eleven. Maybe we'll start choreography," he replied, and watched her grab her shoes and the t-shirt she'd been wearing earlier. She stopped at the door and paused to smile at him, not leaving until he met her gaze and returned her smile. He stood still for a moment, watching her head up the path back toward her family's guest house until he lost sight of her. Wiping sweat from his brow, he let the smile on his face widen as he thought about teaching Ziva to dance. She was doing remarkably well for a beginner, and he almost dared to hope that she would be skilled enough to help him succeed in New York. He heaved a sigh of relief. It would be a lot of work, but they might just be able to pull this off.

He walked over to the corner where Ziva had tossed her water bottle, noting that it was empty before picking it up and tossing it in the trash bin. He walked back to the stereo system to change the music again, putting the audition song on. He would have to finish the choreography soon if they were going to have time to perfect it. He worked his way through the parts that he and Mandy had done already, then stopped, trying to imagine where else the dance should go.

There was a great crescendo toward the end where he knew they'd have to navigate a tricky lift, and already he was starting to worry about it. Ziva was small and probably light, but there was more to doing lifts than weight. They'd have to start on that as soon as possible.

Still, it might work, he thought to himself as he walked back to the stereo to turn the music off. He'd work with Ziva again tomorrow morning. The thought of getting to pull her close for another several hours tomorrow and for the next several weeks sent a shiver through his spine, and he smirked as he headed up the stairs to his room, where he'd have a cold shower and try not to think about his sultry new dance partner.

Lord almighty, the woman might just kill him.

As I have said before, thank you all for the support you've given to this story so far. I have loved every last one of your reviews, favs, and follows. I have been so excited to share this story finally. Look out for Chapter 4 on Monday.