Wondering the streets of Paris (even if they could only manage but a day) was an enthralling experience. The mere sight, sound, and atmosphere of Avenue des Champs-Élysées encouraged them to see life in Technicolor; the plain reds turned to the glossy rouge on a street performer's lip, the ordinary blues shifted to teals, aquamarines, Prussians, and azures. Tony took pictures of Tali in front of the the Arc de Triomphe with a very stereotypical, sad-faced pantomimer. He explained to Ziva that mimes are a hallmark in the French arts. Tali was scared to death at first before the mime calmed her down by pretending to beat himself up. Surprisingly, when she saw how unthreatening the act was, she started giggling. Then Tony decided to take another approach to the photos:

"Ziva!"

Ziva was drinking an iced cream coffee she bought from a street vendor. She was watching Tony the entire time from a bench, maybe fifteen feet away from the performers. She thought Tony was being silly, making her daughter do a 'tiger growl' or a 'villain' stance with a… mime, and wanted to go back to the hotel because of their early departure.

"For the love of…" Ziva said to herself, "What?!" She called out.

"Can you get Tali that red balloon over there? I would get it myself but I have…a…" Tony looked for an excuse, "mime."

"Mime? ... seriously, Tony?"

"Just please get a balloon?"

"Why does she need a balloon? She has already forced you into buying three times the candy she will ever eat! What is next? She points to a car she likes and you buy her a Mercedes?!"

"Um, A) It will be a BMW and B) This is photography, red balloons…hello? Ziva! We're in Pa-Rie, The Red Balloon? A French cinema classic?!"

"Yeah, okay, Tony."

He just continued looking at her with pleading eyes, such fake sadness.

"Eize Basa!"

He was not going to give it a rest. Ziva looked and saw an old fat man with a beret selling balloons.

"I assume that's another way to say this is the best day ever!" He yelled out to her, knowing that that is not what she had said. "Oh, Ziva! Make sure it's red. Has to be red!"

Ziva quickly turned around from the older man in the process of a transaction, and rolled her eyes. Tony just smiled.

When Ziva returned, Tony tied the balloon around Tali's wrist, looked to the mime then to his daughter, "Ok, remember what we practiced?" There were two exaggerated nods. "Do that! I need to feel the pain, the anguish, the Chaplin in all of us."

Tali and the performer started posing in various dramatic positions, when the mime got to his knees and Tali posed with her hands out in front of him but her head tuned the opposite direction, Ziva couldn't look unamused anymore; she let out a brilliant laugh then said to Tony that he had enough worthy photographs to be proud of. Tony sighed and got up to tip the mime, who smiled through his makeup and waved good-bye using his entire arm.

It was time to head home. The extended layover went by faster than a "speedy bullfrog", Ziva stated. "Speeding bullet." Tony corrected.

"We'll have to come back here on a real vacation." Tony commented while waiting to board the plane, he was looking through the pictures on his camera.

"Oh, yes." Ziva had Tali in her arms but Tali wanted to see what Abba was looking at, causing Ziva to move with her.

"Abba! Kai look?" Tali asked her father.

"You want to look, Tali?" Tony questioned.

The toddler nodded.

Tony was delighted and nudged over to where she could see and showed off the results of his photographing skills.

Showing his daughter, "That one is you, you" Tony points to the girl to make it clearer for her to understand and Tali's face instantly lights up with joy.

"Tali!" She exclaims to her mother as if trying to get her to grasp onto the absolutely amazing concept behind having a picture of yourself onto a device. It's the toddler's way of saying Guys. This. Is. Cool. Everyone needs this. I'm on a camera, yet I'm still here. Have we funded this? Mom, you've seen this? You've got to see this.

Tony looks to Ziva, "You know something? Remember that picture we took with Tali? The one where I set the little timer?"

"Ah, yes. Why would I forget? We had to re-take it like twenty times…"

"Oh, come on! It was not twenty times, if anything, maybe six…or seven. Look, I was going to say, I'm gonna get it enlarged and frame it. Still debating on whether it should be in black on white for the effect or keep it in color."

"Tony, keep the black and white, Avant-garde, for the mime photoshoot. Use color. Isn't life supposed to be in color?" She raises her eyebrows looking as if she's proven her point, "That reminds me, there is a movie or show named color life? Life color? It had John Carrey? Living..?"

"Jim Carrey and it was a show. In Living Color. You watched that?"

"It was on re-runs, and I couldn't help it! How else do you think I picked up the American phrases and innuendos?"

"Uh, you do realize it was a sketch-comedy show?" He then remembers all the times Ziva has said some stupidly funny misnomers. "Oh, well, you know, that makes a lot of sense now…"

It was time to move. When the family was seated, Tony had to ask, "I never asked you, what have you been up to since I saw you last?"

She was confused, "Did I not explain myself, Tony? I thought I gave you a sufficient answer." She spoke softly, "please don't make me go through all of that again."

"I'm not talking about that, Zee-Vah. Good things, fun things…"

"Fun things?" Ziva questioned.

Tony gestured, "You know what I mean."

Ziva gave up, "Alright, alright, good things? You say?"

"Anything, everything, no 'nothing', something."

She thought for a moment, "Well, I have a degree in literature, now."

Tony was a surprised, "Really?! Huh, you wanted to experience the college life, did you get to experience any red cup parties? You know, chugged on a keg of beer?" Ziva looked confused yet amused at Tony's enthusiasm towards her involvement of the higher-education variety. "I'm joking with you, Zee-Vah. I am really happy for you."

"Yes, Tony. It's amazing what you can do accomplish through some hybrid and online courses."

"So, what made you decide to go through with that?"

"I suppose, if anything, a chance at normalcy. Whatever that means anymore…Tony, if I could be completely honest…" She leaned into Tony's arm, "Something in me wants to be a teacher".

Tony leaned closer to her, "Really? Huh," Tony sat back and he felt her eyes on him, waiting for him to say something, possibly reassurance. "You know I could see you as a Literature teacher, Shakespeare, Chaucer?"

"I was thinking the same thing, Steinbeck, Frost, and Emerson, all of those writers, just perfection."

Ziva looked at Tali, who was coloring beside her.

"Maybe some Edgar Allan Poe, I admire his work."

He says under his breath with an entertained look, "Figures".

"Hey!" Ziva playfully punches his arm. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Ziva, Poe is…" He thinks to himself an explanation before unintentionally insulting her, "Poe is a specific author. He writes crazy stories and poems….not saying you're crazy. Sometimes strange. But. Uh, adventurous? Poe is creatively adventurous…"

Ziva puts both her hands on her lap and faces forward, like a teacher waiting for the last student to finish his test.

"So, Tony, Am I strange or am I creatively adventurous?"

Ziva turns to her left and now waits for an answer with her left hand bracing her head against her seat. Tony is thinking around loopholes and answers that were either too stupid to say aloud or made no sense. Finally, he thinks back to a college class and the subject matter was on great American authors. He needed to find something in his memory file cabinet to sum up Ziva. She's not normal. Being normal, normalcy, isn't normal. He looks to Ziva and he sees how naturally beautiful she is, how she is so effortless in her dogmatic appeal. He thought about how different she was, always had been, from all the other women who had entered and left his life. Nonetheless, he has her. He really, can physically prove, he has her.

"There is no beauty without some strangeness." Tony said rather lyrically, without even trying. This wasn't an attempt at evading the question, it was no attempt or strategy, just truth.

Ziva was stunned. She saw the sincerity in his eyes and her resolve melted to a warmness, a kindness. There gazes were fixed on another.

"You do know Edgar Allan Poe."

"I do. A little bit. But, I 'm no scholar such as yourself."

A couple moments pass.

"Tony… there were poems and short stories that he wrote, so unlike the others…" Realization. "People see what they want to see. I envision a mold someone has made for themselves…then one day…" Tony stops her.

"Don't live in a mold, Ziva. That way you won't worry about living up to the high expectations you set for yourself. Ziva, you are your own worst enemy, but, you can also be your own best friend."

She smiled at his words, "I thought you were my best friend, Tony"

Tony chuckled, "True." He takes her hands in his, "I'll always be."

She glanced to their hands then back to Tony, "There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion"

They both genuinely smile at each other, maybe not with their lips but their eyes show the fondness, "I believe that sums us up perfectly."

Note: Lighter choice for this chapter. Next chapter: Gibbs