A/N: I bow before the Google gods...they led me to the Belga Café, and even told me how much time it would take to walk there from NCIS HQ! I found the menu on the Café's website - Tony and Louisa's orders are genuinely available on the lunch menu. The spinach salad has a totally unpronounceable name - Spinazie Salade Met Sinaasapple - which would just have been ridiculous to include in the story. But there you have it - a cool bit of trivia for ya! Oh, and a pox on ffdotnet for taking away all my lovely e-mail formatting! Just pretend the e-mail addresses have atncisdotnavydotmil on the end, and that there's no space in the file name of the attachment. Meanwhile, I'll take a couple of deep breaths and try to calm down. It'll be formatted correctly if you read it in my LJ.

A note about changes to earlier chapters - I recently discovered that there is canon proof of Tony's age. In the Season 5 episode "In The Zone" (fantastic episode, BTW, with a lovely brave, professional and serious Tony), our hero's birthdate is shown to be July 19, 1968. That makes our boy 41, going on 42, in this story. I had him pegged at 39, going on 40. So...I will be revising previous chapters accordingly where necessary. Sorry for the confusion. I'm still learning...and he does look younger than his years...*smile*

Edit: After receiving some valuable feedback from a friend on LJ, I've changed my mind and decided to leave Tony's age as-is. She rightly pointed out that the prop guys don't necessarily have the last word when it comes to canon (the birthdate was on Tony's ID badge). As mentioned by some of my reviewers, Kate does make him 32 in season 1, and he doesn't deny it. He accuses her of reading his file, which suggests to me that she was right.

Warnings: Spoilers for Season 4 in this chapter

Disclaimer: Canon characters belong to DPB, CBS & Co. No copyright infringement intended.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010 4:52 p.m.

Louisa Penachetti furrowed her brow, desperately attempting to focus on a jumble of Syrian code that was causing her to go cross-eyed with frustration. She was getting a mild headache, and was finding it difficult to concentrate.

Ever since sharing that passionate kiss in Tony's Mustang yesterday, she'd been distracted almost beyond belief. Whenever she closed her eyes, the scent of his after-shave returned to her memory, and suddenly she was right there with him all over again... the feel of his hand on her thigh... his breath on her neck... his tongue in her mouth. It was wonderful, and thrilling, and so... so not her.

She felt a bit like Cinderella. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. Prince Charming wasn't supposed to notice an ordinary girl like her. He was out of her league. It was the stuff of fairly tales.

A horrible thought drifted into her consciousness... was he playing her? Had he perhaps made a bet that he could seduce the good little Catholic girl?

Tony was a master at undercover work; she knew that much from hearing Pete crow about his friend's exploits. She also knew that he'd had a very serious relationship with a woman named Jeanne four years ago, which had turned out to be all a sham. Pete had been completely convinced that Tony was ready to settle down with her, ready to enter domestic bliss. But, in the end, Tony had claimed that he never truly loved her – it had just been part of an elaborate undercover operation.

If he could fool a presumably 'experienced' woman under those circumstances... well... fooling Louisa would be child's play.

She bit her lower lip, ashamed to be having such thoughts. Pete was an excellent judge of character, and he would not befriend a man who was capable of doing such a thing to his own sister. It was as simple as that. Perhaps Pete could help her, give her some idea of how to proceed? Maybe if she knew more about Tony, she'd feel more confident?

She dialled her brother's number.

Thursday, June 3, 2010 1:53 p.m.

Tony glanced at his watch. For about the 5th time in the past hour. McGee shot an annoyed glance over at Ziva, who for her part was trying desperately to ignore the fidgety SFA. It wasn't easy. He was dressed to the nines in Armani and Zegna, had a fresh haircut, and smelled absolutely delicious.

"Will you quit that, Tony? You're making me nervous," McGee muttered under his breath.

"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?" Gibbs chimed in, observing his senior agent rising to his feet.

"Yeah, Boss," he admitted sheepishly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the elevator. "I'm taking a late lunch. That ok with you?" he asked hopefully. He'd meant to clear it with Gibbs yesterday, but the Boss hadn't been around much, and the opportunity for a private conversation had not presented itself.

He didn't particularly care if anyone else knew where he was going today. But this wasn't like any other date he'd ever been on – he felt no urge to boast about it to his colleagues. With Jeanne, he'd been unable to brag; with Louisa, he simply didn't feel the need.

"What if I said no?" Gibbs could read his senior agent like a book, and he could tell, both by Tony's demeanor and his attire, that this late lunch involved a woman. He put on his best poker face. He was going to enjoy this.

DiNozzo sank back down into his chair. "Well... then... I'd have to make a phone call." Gibbs raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, and the message was crystal clear to Tony. Better make your phone call, then.

Ziva saw through the ruse, and grinned devilishly at McGee, who was taking every word Gibbs said – and didn't say – with the utmost seriousness. Tony's mouth opened and closed like a stunned guppy. He stared at Gibbs, but got no reaction whatsoever. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the receiver.

"My office." Gibbs stood and marched off toward the elevator. Tony followed him with his eyes, then jumped up, slamming the receiver back down and grabbing his suit jacket off the back of his chair (just in case) as he ran to catch up to him. Ziva stifled a giggle and grinned once more at McGee, on whom the entire scene was somehow lost.

Gibbs punched the STOP button as they began to descend, and the lights dimmed. "Late lunch, huh?" He leaned back against the wall, waiting for his senior agent to respond. Tony nodded, but didn't say a word. "Louisa Penachetti."

Tony's look was incredulous. "How the hell do you do that, Boss?" Gibbs shrugged his shoulders and grinned. Tony recovered his composure quickly, and tried a new tactic. "I was going to ask you yesterday, but...well, I've noticed you haven't been around much lately... somethin's up, isn't it?" It was just like Tony to try to shift the focus of the conversation like that. Gibb's wasn't having it.

"Nothing that concerns you, DiNozzo. I was going to ask you the very same question."

"You were? Why?" Tony knew damn well why, but he wasn't about to give up that easily.

"Maybe because I'm still waiting for your report on Jacob Halpern's murder."

"Uh, you took me off that case, remember?"

"Don't be a smart-ass, Tony. You were officially involved for the first 36 hours of it, and unofficially, you never did come off it. You know better than to assume I wouldn't want a report... but you've obviously had other things on your mind..." Tony averted his gaze, realizing that he'd been pretty much useless for the past two days: fidgety, unfocused, distracted. It was out of character. He was off his game. Women didn't normally affect him this way. After a few tense moments, Gibbs broke the silence, and continued. "How long you gonna be?"

"Just an hour, hour and a half, tops," he replied, trying his best to sound casual about it all. "She's gotta be at work for 16:00. I'll make up the time if I'm late back."

Gibbs hit the STOP button again to kick-start the elevator, and they continued their descent to the ground level. "DiNozzo... when you're here, I need you to be here, 100%. Got that?" he growled, as the doors opened.

"Gotcha, Boss. Thanks." Tony gave a mock salute to his superior as both men stepped out into the atrium and the doors slid shut behind them. Gibbs marched straight out the main doors and to the right down Sicard Street, to the local Starbuck's for his latest caffeine fix. He gave Louisa a smile and a nod as he passed.

Tony hung back near the elevator doors for a moment, unable to explain how he'd escaped that little 'meeting' without the usual slap on the head, but not inclined to question it. He caught sight of Louisa as Gibbs passed her. She was standing by the front security desk with her back to him, gazing through the double set of glass doors at something outside. She was in full khakis, sensible dark brown pumps, and clutched a small handbag. She looked so tiny and vulnerable, but Tony sensed that vulnerability was just on the surface. If she was anything like her brother, Louisa Penachetti was, at her core, a little toughie. He was looking forward to finding out just how accurate this initial assessment was.

As he approached her from behind, he couldn't help admiring her curves. There was something to be said for a woman who wasn't all skin and bone. Placing his hands gently on her hips, he leaned in and whispered "Hey, You!" She nearly jumped out of her skin and let out a yelp, before spinning around and realizing it was him. Her reaction surprised him, and he was slightly taken aback. He tried to laugh it off. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya."

She smiled with relief, and giggled nervously. "S'ok." She looked him up and down approvingly. "It's good to see you again," she murmured. She felt like a pubescent girl, and desperately hoped she didn't sound like one too.

"Sure is," he responded, and without the slightest hesitation, he took her in his arms and kissed her, full on the lips. She bounced up onto her tip-toes and wrapped her arms up under his; with her hands on his shoulders, she pulled herself up and leaned into the kiss delightedly. Once again, Tony had to struggle to maintain his composure in this public forum. He pulled back and gazed into her dancing eyes gleefully. "You hungry?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. He guided her to the doors, holding them open for her and gently pressing his hand against the small of her back as they exited onto Sicard Street.

"I hope you like Belgian food..."

With lightning speed, word of 'the kiss' made its way throughout the building: snapshots from six different cell phones instantly flew into e-mail in-boxes in every department, from Behavioral Sciences, to Technical Services, to the Major Case Reponse Teams; and soon one in particular landed on Abby's computer:

Time: 2:04 p.m.

From: Timothy McGee
To: Abigail Sciuto
Cc: Ziva David

Subject: I TOLD YOU SO.

Attachments: Tony . jpg

Forwarded Message: OMG! WHO IS THIS CHICK?

Within seconds of him hitting Send, the gleeful goth came bounding upstairs. "Ok, now THAT'S what I call evidence, Timmy!" she exclaimed. "So... how can we use it?"

"I fail to see the point of this," Ziva wet-blanketed. "He did not try to hide it; one may therefore assume he does not care if we know about it."

Their faces fell, as they realized she was probably right. Suddenly, Abby perked up again. "Put it up on the plasma, Tim." He obliged. "Ok, let's see what we can do with this." She sidled around next to McGee at his workstation, and began to play with the image, distorting it in various directions. They laughed uncontrollably, each iteration more grotesque and bizarre than the last. It was all in fun, but for some reason it made Ziva feel uncomfortable.

"This is not appropriate," she declaimed. Both Abby and McGee stopped dead and stared at her in disbelief. After all the practical jokes Tony had played on them over the years, many of them really bordering on cruel rather than funny, how could she not enjoy this?

"What's not appropriate?" They all glanced up at once, to see Gibbs swinging into the bullpen, large coffee in hand, and twisting his head around to see the image displayed on the main plasma screen. McGee tried to shut it down, but he was too late.

"Uh, Boss, we were just testing out the new transitional imaging software I ordered from – "

"Get it off there, McGee!" Gibbs barked, his tone a bit more terse than usual.

With a single keystroke, it was gone. "Done, Boss."

"Some things are off-limits, McGee, and that's one of 'em."

"Yes, Sir." He slunk down into his chair, and Abby surreptitiously crept back to the rear elevator and returned to her lab. Maybe Tim couldn't get away with it right in front of Gibbs, but she could continue their handiwork away from the Bossman's disapproving gaze. She'd share the final results with McGee later.

Hand in hand, the couple strolled north to the Belga Café on 8th Street SE, arriving just in time for Tony's 2:15 reservation. He'd requested his favourite corner table, by the window; it would provide some privacy, and he always liked to sit with his back to the wall, ever since his undercover days working the Macaluso case in Baltimore.

They ordered drinks – lemonade for Louisa, San Pelligrino for Tony – and quickly scanned the menu. Tony haunted this restaurant with regularity at lunchtime, and he always opted for the Lamb Burger, with a side order of fries. Louisa chose a spinach salad with oranges and cheese (hold the garlic croutons, please!) in an orange vinaigrette.

She'd agonized for hours over what to wear today. After systematically trying on, then casting off, about 10 different outfits that were, even now, strewn about her bedroom, she despaired that none of them fit properly. 'Sunday best' just didn't seem the right look, and the only other things she had that she would actually be able to get into were jeans, sweats and t-shirts. She'd fallen back on wearing her uniform for today's rendezvous, and resolved to start dieting immediately. (For the first time in years, she actually wanted a body she could show off). The salad fit the bill perfectly. It didn't hurt that it sounded yummy, too.

Lunch orders given and drinks delivered, they could finally relax and have a proper conversation. Taking Louisa's hand, Tony stroked her fingers with his thumb, and gazed at her admiringly. Although he could tell she was excited and pleased to be with him, he also saw a vague sadness in her eyes that demanded further investigation.

"Everything back to normal at work now?"

She bit her lower lip, and lowered her eyes. "I guess."

He squeezed her hand. "What's up?" She shook her head, hoping he'd move on to another topic. But he persisted. "Lou?" With his free hand, he reached over and lifted her chin. Her eyes were glassy and moist, and she sniffled to try to stop the tears from falling.

"Commander Schumacher called me into his office last night, as I was coming off rotation." Tony stiffened, anticipating what she would say next. It was as he had feared. "He's putting a formal reprimand in my file, over that video I sent."

"Oh, Lou, I'm sorry."

"It could've been worse… I could've been up for court martial… and he did say he understood why I did it… but, up until now I had a spotless record…" She began to lose her composure. She pulled her hand away and rummaged around in her purse, hunting for a tissue. Tony pulled the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and handed it to her instead. She took it gratefully and dabbed her eyes. He was Rhett Butler to her Scarlett O'Hara. Here, take my handkerchief. Never, at any crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief. Louisa had done a fair bit of weeping over the past few days, all of it without benefit of a kleenex or a hankie.

"Lou… at some point in everyone's career, they face a situation where they have to choose between doing the right thing, or following the rules. You did the right thing."

How did he know just what to say? She smiled up at him through her tears. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I do. And so does your Dad. Don't you think he'd have been the first one to tell you otherwise?"

She hadn't thought of it that way, but it did make sense. The Admiral was the most straight-laced, by-the-book officer she'd ever known. If he thought she needed correction, he always gave it, no matter how difficult it was. The fact that he hadn't in this case, spoke volumes.

She felt childish, and embarrassed to have broken down so easily. She quickly pulled herself together, and stuffed the handkerchief in her purse. "I'll wash that before I give it back to you."

"First date, and I've already got you doing my laundry!" Tony quipped. She giggled, and the mood lightened again. Their food arrived just then, and they took a moment to tuck in. As expected, it was delicious.

Tony took a sip of his mineral water, and started off on a new tangent of conversation. "You were quite the renaissance woman in school, weren't you?... cross-country team, language club, computer club..."

She squinted, and gave him a puzzled look. "How do you know all that? I'll have to have a word with my brother... blabbing my life story..."

"Hah! First of all, let me reassure you that your brother told me nothing. All your secrets are safe with him. Secondly, why is it ok for him to tell you things about me, but not tell me things about you?"

He had her there. She blushed, and avoided his question. "He told you that I called him?" Tony nodded. "So... if he didn't tell you all that stuff about school, how did you find out?"

"It's what I do, remember? I'm an investigator," he grinned.

"So you did a background check on me..."

"Uh-huh."

"... using NCIS computer equipment..."

"Uh-huh."

"That's an unauthorized use of government resources. Maybe I should tell Agent Gibbs to put a formal reprimand in your file..." She tried her best to keep a straight face, but he could see the cheeky glint in her eyes.

"Oh man, if Gibbs put a note in the file for every non-work-related use of those computers, he'd need a new file cabinet!"

She saw an opportunity to shift the conversation away from herself. "Tell me about your family, Tony. Pete didn't really tell me much – I guess he wanted to make sure we'd have something to talk about."

"Well, on that particular topic, there's not much to tell," he deflected. "Miserable, lonely childhood... wealthy family, or at least it used to be... but I'm cut out of the will anyway, so don't get your hopes up." He winked. "Dad wasn't around much when I was growing up (which may actually have been a blessing, now that I think about it). My Mom died when I was eight."

She detected a change in his tone when he spoke of his mother. She put down her fork, and looked at him earnestly. "That must have been so hard for you. I can't imagine growing up without my Mom."

He swallowed. "Yeah... my Dad never really knew how to deal with me. He left most of the parenting to my Mom. Once she was gone, there was no... buffer... know what I mean?"

She nodded, even though she really couldn't imagine a world where she was not the apple of her father's eye. She took his hand and squeezed it. "What did she look like?"

He pulled his hand away, and reached for his wallet. After riffling through various credit cards and receipts, he came upon a slightly wrinkled photo with frayed edges. The date-stamp on the back read October 23, 1972. Staring at it for a moment, his eyes went wide. He looked up at Louisa, then back down at the photo.

"Wow..."

"What?"

Her curiosity was piqued by his reaction. He handed her the photo. "Who does that look like to you?"

She stared at it in disbelief. "My mother!"

He laughed. "No, silly. It's you! Ever since the moment I first saw you, there was something about you that had me captivated. I couldn't put my finger on it. But now it all makes sense." His voice softened. "You remind me so much of her."

Louisa's head was filled with questions. But there was one in particular that she desperately wanted to ask. She sensed there was something especially painful about Tony's memory of his mother, something more than the simple fact of her death. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether it was wise to pry open the wound. But in the end, she couldn't stop herself.

"How did she die, Tony?"

A/N: Sorry, I know that was cruel - the original plan was for this whole chappie to be the date, from start to finish, but all that other stuff was begging to come out first, so now it's 2 chappies instead. Stay tuned...