A/N: This one is LONG. Wanted to make sure I got both post-Somalia and Paris in there. Thank you so much for the reviews, I am glad people are enjoying this.

September 2009

The minute the bag pulled over her head, she began to pray for death.

She had prayed for it daily, since her capture, and made peace with it. Every day she endured torture, beatings, and repeated doses of truth serum, but none of it worked. Saleem seemed to forget in all his vast research on how to build the perfect cocktail of torture drugs that Mossad trained them to endure such things. She had been subjected to so much truth serum it did absolutely nothing to her, her body used to it. So she told lies. Then he figured them out. And then the beatings continued.

She did not expect the bag to come off this time. When it did, when she saw him sitting there, tied to the chair before her, she couldn't breathe. The gasp was not in shock that she was alive, but that he was there. It seemed the stunned look on his face was real as well. Made even more so by the revelation he was undergoing interrogation via Saleem's little truth cocktail. She did not know what to say. Mossad had left her there to die. There was no backup, no escape plan…she'd come to realize that on her fourth week there. She had to do it on her own, yes, but Malachi should have come through when she'd failed to kill Saleem by the deadline.

There were so many screw-ups, she thought, blinking through tears. She had been hit by a wave of nausea and emotion, not used to sleeping in a bed, in an actual apartment, so long after learning to accept a dirt floor was her only source of comfort. She turned in the bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to purge the memories from her mind, but it was impossible. They just kept coming. The look in his eyes at seeing her alive. The attempt to cover it up with laughter and jokes.

Why are you here?

Couldn't live without you, I guess.

They came for her. Her agency left her to die to correct a mistake. Her father left her to die. She pushed it from her mind and turned in the bed, trying to fall back asleep. She did not sleep through the night anymore. She couldn't possibly. How long had she been back in the real world? Only a week. That was not enough time for anyone. She lifted her head when there was a soft knock at the door. "Yes?" she called.

The door creaked open, light from the hall flooding into the room adorned with rather feminine and sleek decorations. It was a room she would not have chosen for herself, but as it was freely given in a country where she did not have a job at the moment, she took it. "Are you okay? I thought I heard a noise." Kate Todd leaned against the doorjamb, her hand going to her hip. She looked like she had just gotten home from her date, still wearing a dress and high-heels.

Ziva sat up, looping her arms around her knees, nodding slightly. "I'm fine. I can't sleep." She smiled quickly. "Sorry to disturb you." She hesitated. This was an awkward arrangement. "Um…I wanted you to know that I would find alternative housing by tomorrow afternoon. So you shouldn't have to worry about coming home early from your dates to make sure I'm not stealing anything." It was meant to be a joke, but it felt flat, Kate's brow still furrowed. "Bad joke," she mumbled, tossing the covers back from the bed and standing up. Now that she could not sleep, she would go for a run.

Kate flashed a quick smile. "Trust me, I didn't come back early from my date by choice. The guy took three calls from his mother during dinner."

"Oh my."

"Yeah, tell me about it. One of these days I'll find a nice man to settle down with, but tonight was clearly not that night. Remind me never to accept a date from a guy I meet at the gym. They never live up t the image they present," Kate said, flashing a quick smile. She gestured. "Come on, I'll get you a drink."

"I was going to go for a run."

"Well then you can drink before your run and before I go to bed."

She smiled a little. This was a forced friendship, out of circumstance and necessity than by choice. She nodded and closed her eyes again, waiting for the door to close before falling back onto the mattress. Every time she shut her eyes, she could see him sitting there. She had not spoken to him about it. A week back and she had seen him in the office. There was tension, of course. He killed Michael, a voice screamed to her.

Yes, but Michael may have only been with you because of your father, another rational voice piped up. They were the same voices that spoke to her daily. Hourly, every time she let herself think of this. She could not put it away no matter how hard she tried. She blew out a hard breath and got to her feet, changing into running clothes. She would run it away from her mind. Even if temporarily. She exited the bedroom and found Kate pouring a glass of bourbon for her. "I thought you were kidding," she blurted out.

"Like I said, drink before your run." Kate lifted her drink up to her lips, smiling over the rim. "Cheers."

In silent cheers, she lifted her glass and sipped carefully. Bourbon was never her drink of choice, she preferred vodka or gin. "Thanks," she murmured. Why was Kate being so nice to her? The offer of letting her stay at her apartment. The drink. It unnerved her. Kate was a profiler, Ari had targeted and shot her…she hated her. So why being nice? "I will not keep you," she said, setting her glass back down. "I am sorry your date went poorly."

"Like I said, no more guys from the gym."

"Perhaps from work?" Ziva was unsure what prompted her to say it. She regretted it immediately. She ran her tongue over her teeth as Kate pulled back, surprised. "I am sorry, I did not mean how that sounded." Surely there were feelings between DiNozzo and Kate. They had been partners for seven years now. Everyone in Mossad eventually slept with each other. She knew Gibbs and his Rules may have prevented it, but still. She knew they played a game with each other in the office, Tony said it was just brother-sister bantering, but she didn't believe it completely.

Kate frowned at her, waiting a beat. "You mean Tony?"

"Or McGee."

"They're like my brothers," Kate said. She shrugged again, smiling. "I have a bunch of them already, it's easier for me to think of them like that." She narrowed her gaze. "Tony is my partner." She pursed her lips for a moment and then frowned again. "If you want to know the truth Ziva, Gibbs asked me if I would let you stay here because I had a free room and because he wanted my professional opinion of how you were doing after everything that happened. I didn't do this for Tony. It's for Gibbs."

Gibbs wanted her to stay here? She turned her drink around on the table, frowning deeper. "And what will you tell him?" she whispered.

"The truth. That whatever happened to you in Somalia hasn't ruined you but you're pushing through. You need to talk Ziva." Kate pasued. She shook her head and scowled. "I have a sister…I'm not close with her, we don't talk…um…she's a psychologist. She's not bad, I mean…she does stuff with trauma. I think maybe you should give her a call?"

I am not sick. I do not need a doctor. She grabbed her workout jacket from where it was hanging over a chair, shoving her arms into it angrily. "I am fine, thank you for letting me stay here." She scowled over at her. "Like I said, it will not be for very long."

"You can leave whenever you want to leave, I'm not forcing you here, but if you think you need to leave because you're hampering whatever I may have going on with Tony, you are sorely mistaken." Kate laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. She leaned back on her heel, grinning. "I didn't do this for Tony, I did it for Gibbs. I also wasn't the one who was acting the way he was these past few months." She shook her head again, whistling under her breath. "You two have a lot to talk about. I will never pretend to know what sort of connection you guys have between you and frankly I don'tw ant to know. Seeing as it is DiNozzo it's probably something disgusting." She smirked again. "But it's there and when he came back from Israel he thought everything was fine, he even claimed to be happy. Except time went on and when he didn't hear a word about you, he started sniffing. So did Gibbs. For whatever reason you impacted them Ziva. Then the news came in that you were dead."

It was her understanding from Abby that when they believed she was dead, that was when Gibbs and Tony decided to go look for her. "I understand they thought they had to come find me," she mumbled. She shook her head fast. "I did not ask them…"

"Cut the martyr bullshit Ziva. They did it because both of them care about you. Gibbs doesn't give that away freely and Tony…" Kate shook her head again, whispering, dropping the anvil as she grabbed her glass and moved towards the hallway, to her bedroom. She tossed her dark hair from her eyes and smiled again. "Ziva, Tony's life seemed to lose all meaning when he found out you were dead. I have never seen him so singularly hellbent on something before. He would go to the end of the Earth to save you." She smiled softer and moved to her door. "And he did, just to get revenge. I can't imagine what he's thinking now that you're alive."

The bedroom door closed with a light click, leaving her stranded in the kitchen with a glass of bourbon she didn't want and a lack of desire to go running. She stood there for several more minutes, processing that all. Gibbs started poking around. Tony found her. Tony came for revenge and found her instead. She closed her eyes hard. He killed Michael. He did not trust her. He had no reason to, the rational voice screamed. You were not coworkers. You were two different operatives. Of course he had no reason to trust you.

She set the glass down and tugged the hood of the jacket over her head, snagging her phone and headphones. She left, starting a jog, but then moved to full-out running. Her heart pounded in her ears and blood pumped through her veins. She could feel her entire body pulsating as she ran through the D.C. streets. Everything muddled together. Finding Tony and Michael, getting captured in Somalia, the torture, the rescue…the return. She could not breathe after a time and she didn't know if it was from the fervent pace with which she ran or the pain that welled up in her heart. She turned in circles at a corner, trying to figure out where she was.

In her haste to leave the apartment she did not grab ID or money. Great. She looked at her phone. It was almost midnight. She looked up at the building behind her and paused. I have been here before, she thought, looking to the callbox. She walked up to it and was about to ring for him, when a couple stumbled out of the front door, not paying her any attention. She slipped in through the crack of the door in time and hurried through the lobby to the elevator. After she got to his floor, she almost turned around, but thought again. She was already there, after all. He would go to the end of the Earth to save you, Kate said. A woman who did not know anything about her.

I do not understand these feelings, she thought, reaching for the doorknob. She closed her eyes and looked at the lock. Simple. A bobby pin from her hair did the trick, unlocking in less than a minute. She entered the apartment, which was dark save for a light above the stove. She slipped into his bedroom and watched him from the doorway. He was fast asleep, looking like a corpse the way he folded his hands on his stomach, lying flat as a board. She smiled and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand went to his shoulder. "Tony," she whispered. She shook him. "Tony."

"Augh!"

She jumped back, startled as he flung towards her. "Relax, it's me," she said.

"Relax?" he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. He blinked rapidly in the darkness. "Oh my God, I think I'm having heart palpitations. Whoa…relax!? How am I supposed to relax when I'm awakened at midnight by a crazy Israeli chick breaking into my apartment!?" He jumped a bit and pulled the comforter to his chest, scowling at her. "And I'm not even decent."

"It is not like you are with a lady friend." She looked at the bed they were seated on, smirking. "Not that there is much room."

"You bust into my apartment to go after my sleeping habits or are you here to finally kill me?" He stretched out beside her, propping his head up on his hand, his voice oddly calm for someone who just woke to someone in their apartment uninvited. It was almost like he had been expecting her. He cocked his head a little, his voice dropping to a serious whisper. "Because I'm not in the mood. It can wait until the morning."

"You came to find me." It was out of her mouth before she knew. She looked over at him in the darkness. There was moonlight coming in through the slight cracks in the blinds on either side of the bed. The dull, eerie glow shined on his face. He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. She nodded slightly. Her eyes dropped to her hands. "Because I did not ask you to come for me. You did…it was stupid and silly of you and…and you should not have come to find me about Michael…"

He smirked. "Yeah well I learned that the hard way. Hindsight is 20/20."

She didn't know what to say. Things had to be said. "You were silly and reckless and…and completely without backup…" She blew out a hard breath, rounding on him, angry. He was a fool! A complete, utter fool who did not know what he was doing. "I am not your partner anymore Tony! You do not get to come after me, you do not get to say you are saving me!"

"Well too bad, I did."

"And I did not ask for it! Do you know how this makes me feel?" She climbed off the bed, pushing her hands against her chest, laughing at him. "We are not friends, we are not partners…we…we are barely even contacts." That was all a lie. There was no denying what he did. She still just…she couldn't come to terms with it. She closed her eyes tight, murmuring. "I should not have doubted you." That was what it boiled down to. Tony DiNozzo's gut was as good as Gibbs's. They had that trusting connection, which they should not have, given that they were on competing sides, but they did. He was a good cop. She should have trust him.

He got out of the bed. She found he was wearing sweatpants to go with the t-shirt he had on. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, dropping them down to her elbows and holding her in place gently. "No you shouldn't have," he whispered. He sighed hard. "But you did and we're still here. So now what?"

Now I find a place to live here in the United States. I find a job. "I need time from Mossad," she murmured. She needed to get away from it completely. It had taken too much from her. She closed her eyes, seeing him again, feeling her ribs ache from the beatings. She wrapped her arms around her side instinctively at the feeling. He noticed and did nothing. She sighed, swallowing hard. "I am fine."

"You were tortured, left to die in the desert…you're not fine."

"I said….I said I was fine." She moved from him. If she left to go run some more it would be better. She felt him tug her back to him. And became acutely aware of how little clothing there was between them. Damnit, she thought, her arm going around his neck. She brushed her nose against his and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I need to leave."

He smoothed his hand over her cheek, cupping at her jawbone. His thumb brushed at her cheekbone and he smiled down at her again, whispering. "You are going to be okay. Just give it time."

Time is something I cannot afford to lose at the moment. She would just deal with it. She reached for him again and kissed his cheek once more. "I will see you tomorrow," she whispered.

"Where are you going to be?"

At work. At NCIS. I will find something to do. She let go of him, stepping out of his bedroom. She shot a look over his shoulder, seeing him standing in the doorway, watching her. She felt a pang shoot through her stomach. The desire to run at him and kiss him. To thank him for what he'd done. To diffuse the tension. I can't, she thought. That was something she would have done before. This was after. She heaved a breath and tore herself from his apartment, closing the door behind her firmly.

She returned to Kate's place, saying nothing to her the following morning as she gathered her things and checked into a hotel. She spoke to Vance. Sent her father an email. Stopped at the Israeli Embassy. She had a lot of time to think about it and a lot of time to come to her decision. About a week later, she found herself in front of his apartment door again. She sighed hard and lifted her knuckles to knock at it, when she heard a voice call from behind her.

"Remind me to tell the HOA to fire the doorman."

She turned on her heel, smiling. Her hands disappeared into her pockets. "It is not his fault, your neighbors just like holding the door open for me."

Tony approached her, looking exhausted, his backpack hanging down from his elbow, too tired to push it back to his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he asked, unlocking the door and pushing it forward, waiting for her to enter. He set his bag down and disengaged his gun from his hip, setting it in a box. "You want a drink?"

"No, I…I came to talk to you."

"Oh?"

She closed the door behind her and moved to the center of his living room. The piano seemed to beckon to her. Entranced, she sank onto the bench and pushed the cover back, her fingers running lightly over the ivory keys. Her eyes closed and she touched her fingertips to them, pressing gently and began to play the first thing that popped into her mind. She played from memory, feeling everything kind of disappear from her, her shoulders falling and the image of her little sister singing along to the piano flooding her mind. It pushed out the screaming, the pain, and the taunts from Saleem that resonated in there most of the day and night.

When she finished, soft clapping interrupted her blank thoughts. She blinked and looked over at him. "Bravo," he said, walking over to her. He sat down on the bench beside her, glancing sideways. "What are you doing here Ziva? And I know it's not to play my piano."

The piano in her apartment was destroyed when Mossad blew it up trying to get rid of anything Mossad had left behind. She shrugged again, smiling a little. "I wanted to talk to you…to tell you…" She paused and glanced at him again. This was harder than she thought it would be. She reached to touch at the keys again. "Um…I have decided to leave Mossad." He said nothing. She did not expect him to. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she continued to speak. "I spoke with Director Vance…I would like to become an NCIS agent but there are no openings in D.C. So…as much as I would like to work with all of you, until someone leaves…" She trailed off and smiled quickly, glancing sideways. "I have decided to…to freelance."

It was something she'd thought about when Vance told her that the only position was as Mossad liaison. Without that connection, she had to find something else. She had to become an American citizen to work in the United States and the paper work had been filed already. In the meantime she would do what she'd done before. Pop in when there was something she could help with. Otherwise she would…do what she needed to do. Vance had set up some opportunities for her. She had all her contacts in Europe and the Middle East.

He cocked his head slightly. "So you're going to be a US citizen?"

"Yes."

"And who says we want you?" he teased.

She laughed, shrugging and glancing at him again. "Well Israel will always be in my heart, but…I have felt more at home in this country than I did in my own in recent years." She played a few chords, watching as his fingers danced along at the end of the piano. She had the low keys and he had the high ones, her left hand playing while his right went along. After a few minutes, she lifted her head again to his. "You know as an American citizen this makes things easier between us."

"I don't have to file a report each time I speak with you?"

"Yes."

He laughed. "Yeah, that does make it easier." He ran his tongue over his teeth, whispering. "So you're going to be around?"

To a point. She nodded. "I will be. I am actually leaving to return to Israel. There are things I need to close out there." She would go from there to Marseilles. To work out of the NCIS office there while her paperwork processed. She'd return for the requisite meetings and time she had to spend in the US to get her citizenship. Maybe then there would be an opening. Kate had made some noises about going into training development, but that would mean a move to Georgia and she wasn't ready for that yet.

His hand went to her forearm, squeezing lightly. "Do you want to talk?"

No. It would be best if she could just block it out. She tossed her hair over her shoulder again. "Not right now…I just…" She glanced at him again, whispering. "Thank you." There. It hurt to say it, since she was still burned from what he'd done. Regardless…he did almost die for her. She bit her lower lip and leaned her shoulder into his. He leaned back, smiling down at her. When she tilted her head back, she knew what was going to happen. Her fingers reached up and threaded through his hair, accepting his kiss, even though she knew that they shouldn't go any farther.

What was it between us, she wondered, that prompted them to feel this way about each other despite the fact they ultimately didn't know each other that well. He'd gone around the world to avenge her. She couldn't help the little moan that escaped her when he pulled away from the kiss, her fingers still folded at the base of his neck. His forehead touched hers and he kissed her quickly one more time. "You're welcome," he said, still smiling.

She pushed off the bench, before this could go any farther. Her fingers drifted over his shoulder and down to his hand, squeezing. Their eyes met and she saw something in his. Did he know it was there? She hoped it didn't show in hers. It wasn't love. It wasn't even desire. It was just…friendship. Caring. Connection. "I should go," she whispered.

"Kate said you left."

"I need my space." She smiled quickly. "And I do not think Kate likes me."

"She's just jealous. Another pretty girl on the cheerleading squad, that sort of thing."

Yes, maybe. "She cares for you too," she said softly.

His eyebrow arched and she froze. He chuckled, spinning on the bench. "You care for me?"

She shrugged and walked backwards to the door. A laugh escaped her. "Care about you? Well I suppose I have to now…you did save my life." She leaned against the front door, her eyes narrowing on his. They needed to end this before they got too deep. She tapped her fingers on the doorknob, calling out to him. "I will be in Marseilles for a few months. Look me up." Vance said she still had to go through NCIS psych counseling and therapy, which she was not looking forward to, but for now, she had to stay away from him.

He squinted. "Marseilles?"

"I told you, no openings here. I'll see you around," she called.

The last time they said goodbye…she waited a moment and turned, whispering. "Shalom." Peace. It would be a nice thing to have. She did not wait for him to say anything back to her, leaving quickly. She returned to her hotel, gathered her things, and made a point of stopping in to see Gibbs. To give him a gift she had acquired for him, a chisel. A peace offering.

With all of that complete, she called Kate, left a message thanking her again for letting her stay at her apartment, told Abby she would be in touch, and drove to the airport. As she boarded her plane to Paris, her phone dinged with a text message. She looked down at the small screen, smiling to herself. You can call you know. If you want to talk. And you really should talk. I like talking. Talk to me Ziva.

Talk to me, he requested. She just couldn't right now. She needed time. Although…she smiled softly and responded, her thumbs working quickly on the small keypad. I will talk to you later. Getting on plane. She paused for a moment and then bit her lower lip. His face flooded into her mind again, sitting across from her in that chair. She took a deep breath. It was going to take time. She closed her eyes and thought of what else to say to him. She couldn't right now, she just couldn't. She then opened her eyes and sent back one final message.

Rule 45

As she moved to turn her phone off, another message popped up and she smiled. Rule 28. I'll be around.

As long as we both know, she thought, nodding to herself, turning the phone off and shoving it away in her bag. She slouched down in her seat, preparing for the long flight ahead.

January 2010

She scanned the café in Paris, searching for her contact. The witness that Vance contacted her about was still in her hotel, would be at the US Embassy in two days to get escorted to the United States to testify, but she was supposed to meet up with an agent from D.C. who would also accompany them. Afterward, he said he wanted to talk to her about some things. Her future. She shoved her hands into the pocket of her coat, warding off the winter chill. A Special Agent Max Welker was her contact and she'd taken a look at his photo before she left, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Ziva!"

A voice called out her name and she spun on her heel, a smile flirted around her lips when she saw who it was. She walked slowly towards him, meeting him halfway on the sidewalk in front of the café. "Bonjour," she said, leaning in to give him a hug. As she did, she kissed his cheeks, twice for good measure and to keep up the French cover. She pulled back, gripping his forearms. "I was supposed to meet Special Agent Max…"

"Welker, yeah, I traded with him." Tony let go of her and gestured towards a free table. He sank down in the chair across from her and studied her for a few minutes across the table, still smiling. This wasn't one of his friendly, shit-eating grin smiles either. It was rather flirtatious, she thought, returning the look. He looked up when the waiter came over and ordered coffee, in a rather affected French accent.

She ordered the same, folding her hands on the table in front of her and smiling at him. "We have to meet the witness at the Embassy tomorrow morning. Have you ever been to Paris before?"

"Can't say as I have." He propped his head on his hand, reaching over to touch her fingers lightly. "So how have you been?"

He meant since she was recalled back to the States to answer for what happened on the Damocles. It hurt even worse the second time, going through everything again. Knowing what Mossad did. Knowing what her father did. The self-destructive path she was on at the time and the horrors they'd led to. The work she'd done to try to cope with it had been difficult and sporadic. The therapy was awful and she quit after the third week. She didn't necessarily pass her psych evaluations but she didn't fail either. She even spoke with Dr. Rachel Cranston, Kate's sister, and that helped. She still had nightmares. She still didn't sleep through the night. And working out helped a bit. Even the random contact she had with him, occasional emails and texts. Mostly she tried to pretend he didn't exist.

"Fine," she answered. Thankfully the waiter came back with their drinks before he could ask her any further details. Now was not the time for that anyway. The cup of café au lait she held seeped warmth into her cold hands, distracting her from the look he was giving her. She cleared her throat and lifted the cup to her lips, sipping and thinking about what to do next. This was unchartered territory for them. She looked back at him, quiet. "So how has it been in D.C.?"

"Fine," he retorted. He looked around the narrow street they were on, the sidewalks crammed with tables and chairs for the various cafes, benches with people reading newspapers and not caring about the world. His eyes narrowed slightly. "The vibe is weird."

Vibe? What was a vibe? She cocked her head and glanced around. "It is Paris. People do not care here."

"Yeah, I get that snooty French thing…"

"No," she chuckled. That too, but that was not what she was talking about. She shrugged again, her voice dropping. "The attitude here is not what it is in the United States. Things are slower. Less intense. It is one of the reasons I love Paris." She sipped her drink again. A long ago conversation popped into her head. The two of them in Montreal. When she was kidon and he was on assignment. She arched an eyebrow, wondering if she should bring it up.

No need, as he quirked his lip up and lifted his head. "I remember you told me that a few years ago. When we were in Montreal."

"Oui," she said.

"You loved Paris. Said it was one of your favorite cities."

"Because it is one of my favorite cities." Marseilles had been interesting. It had been a decent change for her. The act of investigating crimes and conducting threat assessments was slow and steady, which she needed. The thing about Marseilles was that it did not have the beauty Paris held for her. The mystique and the wandering around every corner getting lost in other centuries. She looked up at him again, that intense gaze focused on her. She swallowed the constricting feeling in her throat. "Paris is lovely, I enjoy it when I can come up here for a visit…I would even entertain the idea of living here one day."

He cocked his head. "Oh?"

"Yes." She said no more on the subject, clearing her throat again and reaching into her pocket, taking out some Euros to cover their coffees. "In fact, as it is your first time in Paris, I feel I should show you around. We only have one day until we pick up the witness…plenty of time to hit the highlighters." The minute she said whatever it was she said, she knew she'd screwed up something. Her eyes narrowed on him and he smiled, the shit-eating grin now plastered on his face. "What?" she demanded.

"It's highlights. Highlighters are those neon markers that college kids use to deface books in so-called attempts at studying."

She scowled at him and got to her feet, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Highlights, whatever. We are in Le Marais right now. Perfect point to start our trek."

"Trek?"

"Oh yes," she said, stepping off the sidewalk and leading him down the street. "Get your camera ready Tony, there is plenty to see."

How she regretted that statement as soon as she said it. The little digital camera was out, a silly device he had glued to his eyeball the entire time they walked through Paris. The first day they saw everything. He wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, le Centre Pompidou, the Louvre, pretend he was getting his head chopped off by a guillotine in the Place de la Concorde, and even reenacted scenes from The Hunchback of Notre Dame when they went to the famous cathedral. They did the tourist things, her impatiently waiting while he sized up shots on his camera, and they did not so tourist things.

She perused marketplace stands as they meandered through tiny streets, translated his terrible French when there was a mistaken order of stinky cheese instead of the grilled cheese he wanted at lunch, and they even took a leisurely stroll down the Seine. In Paris you could disappear from the world and pretend you were in other times, let alone other lives, and she used that to her advantage. It was where nothing bad had ever happened to Ziva David, where she could walk down a street in the company of a man who was just a friend. Enjoy his company, which she did. It seemed even Paris stripped him of his annoying traits or at least, made them bearable. In fact, they even were rather endearing. Like translating his French, waiting for him to take pictures, and even allowing him to rent a moped so they could zoom around like they were in Roman Holiday. Set in Rome, she reminded him, but he just laughed and said then it was Parisian Holiday for them.

As the day wore on, she laughed more and smiled more. Forgot more. She realized why she liked him. He was charming. He had a wicked sense of humor. They did not get along for good reason. They found that their disagreements were often the source of some of their funniest moments. Like when he insisted on speaking French and she had to fix all the mistakes, a flip on him always correcting her English. Evening rolled around and she found herself closer and closer to him, something she had wanted to avoid.

They had finished dinner, a rather romantic dinner they pretended wasn't romantic at all, despite the other couples around them kissing, holding hands, or in one case that they made fun of to take the heat off their own feelings, fed each other rather messily. She drew her purse strap up on her shoulder, gesturing down the street. "Our hotel is down the street. We can take a cab."

He shook his head, hands in the pockets of his coat. "No, let's walk. It's a beautiful night." It was freezing and there was a light drizzle of rain. She said nothing and walked beside him. They bumped shoulders a few times. He cleared his throat again. "Kate has been talking about taking an assignment in Georgia."

"You told me this last time."

"Yeah, I just…thought you should know I think she's getting more serious about it."

"Would it be a promotion?"

"Yeah."

"Then good for her." She did not want to talk about work. That was Agents David and DiNozzo, not Ziva and Tony. Right now she felt like being them instead. She lifted her face up to the sky, pointing. "What do you call that?"

"Stars."

"The shapes."

He smiled down at her. "Constellations."

She nodded. That's what the word was. "In Israel, where I grew up, there are no lights for many miles. At nighttime my sister and I would sneak out into the olive orchard…we would lie there on blankets and make up stories about them. It was cooler sometimes in the trees than in the house." Quieter too, depending on if her mother and father were fighting.

He cleared his throat, whispering. "You don't talk about your sister."

There was not much she wanted to talk about with Tali. Tali was light and pure and good and dead before her time. "She was an angel," she whispered. Demons took her from me. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, clenching them into fists. "She was the only good thing in the family. All of us were monsters." She lifted her head back up to him, smiling quickly. "I heard your father was involved in a case recently."

That changed the subject instantly. It was his turn to clam up and thankfully they were no longer discussing her family. He was exasperated, but there was love in his voice. "Yeah, Senior wandered into the wrong business deal. Almost messed up everything with Gibbs." She wondered what Gibbs would think of Tony's father, a man she had never met but had only heard stories of. The stories surely would not have fared well with Gibbs. Tony chuckled. "He hit on Kate. That was kind of funny…I don't think he likes her very much. He asked about you though."

"Me?"

"Yeah, uh…the picture of us from…" He paused and then shrugged. "I have a picture of us on my desk from one of the cases we worked when you were here. The married one."

Ah, Jean-Paul and Sophie. She rose on her toes, cooing to him. "Jean-Paul, mon petit pois."

"Oui, oui, sweetcheeks."

She laughed with him, not realizing she'd looped her arms around his arm for a few more blocks. Eventually she let go, neither of them saying anything. She glanced back up at him. "So your father asked about me? What did you tell him?"

"Well I didn't really have to, Abby clued him in. He's fascinated by the Mossad officer angle. Thinks he may have met your father." He set his jaw. "Sorry."

For what? For mentioning her former employer and her father? Who at one time had been both? She shook her head. It didn't matter. "It's fine." She kept walking, finally looking up at the hotel, gesturing. "It's here. I checked my bag at the desk, they did not have any rooms cleaned when I arrived."

"Same."

"Well let's check in then." They went up to the desk and she translated, finding out there was only one room left. No big deal, they said. They'd take it. Saves the government money, he figured. They took the keys and their bags, going upstairs. It was a quaint little hotel near the old Jewish Quarter of Le Marais, a place where she'd lived during her stint there with Mossad. She knew the streets like the back of her hand and it was always good to know your territory. Just in case. This was an open and shut case. It wasn't even a case, they would take the witness to the States and she'd fly back, no big deal.

They entered the room and she set her bag in the corner, turning to choose her bed. She blinked. One bed. One tiny couch. He sensed the dilemma and gestured to the couch. "I'll take that, you can have the bed."

"No, don't worry about it, I'll take it." He would complain of his back. She didn't want to hear him whine of it all day on the plane tomorrow. She tugged a blanket and spare pillow from the closet, dropping them onto the couch. She fell down on the hard cushions, wincing. Maybe she should let him take it. This might kill her back too. She rubbed at her neck. It had been a long day; she forgot how much sightseeing took it out of you.

He was flicking through his pictures. "I tried doing some things with light and space," he said, preening over his photos. "I think they turned out very well if I do say so myself."

They were too sterile, but she wouldn't say that to him, not when he was so proud of them right now. She smiled and leaned against the back of the couch, propping her feet on the coffee table. "You know the last time we shared a hotel room, we had microphones and cameras on us. What will we do now that we're actually alone?" She turned to look at him and her smile faltered at the look he was giving her. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, talking about that time. She cleared her throat and sat up farther. "I probably should not have said anything." That was another lifetime ago.

"Why not?" He got up from the armchair beside her and took a spot next to her. He smiled. "We were on assignment."

She darted her gaze to him, still smiling. They may have been on assignment, but it had definitely been an interesting investigation. There had been plenty of times when she needed to feign relationships for Mossad. Even times when she'd gone all the way for a mark or a case, but…this had been different. She reached her hand to his and touched it. It was good they could at least enjoy each other. Months ago that had not been the case. She leaned in to him, at the same time he did to her. "I missed you," she murmured. It had been months and one day was not enough.

He murmured back. "Ziva David missed me? Has hell frozen over?"

She chuckled. "Do not ever repeat that. You may not live."

"Oh I have no doubt." He reached to her face and she froze as his hand drifted down her cheek. He fixed her with the look he'd had on this morning. That desirable, lazy look that said he knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. She stiffened, knowing this was a bad idea all around. So did he, but that wasn't going to stop them, she figured. His thumb dragged down her cheekbone. "Ziva," he whispered. "Talk to me."

I can't, she wanted to cry. She closed her eyes. "Tony," she mumbled. She touched her fingertips to his face, tracing over the scruff outlining his jaw, her hands going to the back of his neck. She opened her eyes briefly, still leaning in to him. She gripped at him. What are we doing? This was a mistake. This was Paris. It was like a drug. They were just Tony and Ziva, that's all they were. Tony and Ziva had fun, they laughed, and they did not care about what happened months before. They were just enjoying themselves. Enjoying life. "I feel a bit…jet lagged."

"You took a train," he chuckled over her lips, his hands now cupping her face.

Are we really doing this, she wondered. "I should go to bed," she continued, unable to stop herself as she started to push at his jacket. She shook her head. "And I will stay here, on the couch."

He shook his head this time, getting up slowly and in spite of herself she followed, both of them walking towards the bed. "No," he whispered, still not quite there yet with her. "No, you should definitely take the bed."

Well if you insist, she thought, finally crashing her lips against his. Oh God, she thought, moaning as he pulled at the bottom of her blouse, his hands diving beneath to encircle her waist, tugging her against him as they both entwined around each other, falling backwards onto the bed.

The following morning she woke up for the first time in months, since before Somalia, and felt rested. She smiled and burrowed deeper into his arms, sighing and patting at his chest. "You need deodorant," she mumbled, still pressed against him and unmoving.

He pulled the comforter up over them. "It's at the top of my to do list," he said, his voice gravelly with sleep. He was just as content as she was to not move for the remainder of the day. Except they couldn't. They had to be at the Embassy to pick up the witness and escort her back to the States. She turned away and wrapped her arms around the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifted back to sleep. It was so…comfy, she thought. The nice soft bed, the drizzle of the rain hitting the windowpane, and…and him. It was the most comfortable and relaxed she had been in years. She mumbled to herself as the memories of the day and evening before clouded into her mind. They really did have to get back to work, wake up and get something to eat before they headed to the Embassy. She sighed, turning slightly, her eyes opening to see that he was already dressing, buttoning up his shirt. He glanced over at her and smiled quickly. "I've got a more sights to see before we leave."

Leave, yes of course. They could not live in this world forever. Although that might be nice. She yawned and sat up, pulling the sheet with her as she rummaged through her bag, grabbing a set of clothes. With a quick, silent glance over her shoulder, she pushed into the bathroom to get ready. They didn't say anything to each other about what had happened the night before. She stood beneath the shower, letting the spray sting at her face as she scrubbed her hair, thinking about…about them.

They had an attraction. They always had, since she walked into that office. It had somehow withstood two agencies, many years, countless arguments and potential international incidents, and more pain than she wanted to acknowledge, so why shouldn't they act upon it when they weren't violating policies and laws and starting potential international incidents again? Now that they'd acted upon it, they would be fine. They could go their separate ways again, be coworkers and all that, but at the end of the day, the tension was diffused and logically speaking, they should be fine. Maybe even then nothing would stand in the way of him finding someone else. Maybe even his partner, if that's what he wanted. He wouldn't be wondering 'what if.'

She finished in the bathroom and found he'd left the room, a note saying that he'd meet her for breakfast at the place they met yesterday. I suppose there was nothing left to say about all this. They finally got what they'd wondered about for years. She crumpled the note up and gathered her things, taking them down to the front desk and checking the bag. She'd come and get it before they went to the Embassy. She meandered around the streets, making her way slowly to the café.

That evening she'd slept through the night and it was partly because of him. I suppose it didn't matter. She didn't want to ruin anything they may have…had. The friendship and connection. Don't get too close, she'd warned Ducky, after Somalia. The ones who get close wind up dead. That was a fact. She couldn't do this to him. She steeled herself and sat down at the café, ordering their breakfast. A few minutes later, he showed up, waxing on about Paris. It seemed he wanted to talk about it, the references to her sleeping comfortably. She just smiled and shrugged it off. They had work to do. Couldn't let personal things get involved.

A few days later, in D.C., she found him waiting for her by her hotel after she returned from a run, breathing deep as she came to a stop by him. "We have to stop meeting like this," she drawled. There was a time he used to stake out her hotels. She smirked, her hands going to her hips. "What are you doing here?"

He looked around, seemingly nervous, and then removed something from his pocket, passing it over to her. "My favorite photo. The only one with someone in it." The image looking up at her was from a postcard stand, he'd snapped her picture when she wasn't looking. She smiled and he smirked. "I think it's very French New Wave."

"It would look better in black and white," she said, passing it to him, still smiling. She looked around, still not used to being able to speak to him without the threat of someone watching. They both stood together for a moment before she laughed. "It is fine Tony. We have…a friendship. I do not want anything to ruin it."

"Me either," he said quietly.

She smirked, her hands going into the pockets of her workout jacket. "It was fun," she said.

He laughed, moving closer to her. "Yeah, it was." His tongue ran over his teeth. "When are you going back to France?"

"Tomorrow." Then she would be going to Spain. Rota, Spain. There was something there that Vance wanted her to start looking into. He'd made sounds about her going to work with a CIA liaison on a big NCIS case. Travel would be involved. Something to take her mind off of everything. She had to return to the States to take her test soon, her naturalization test. She was very excited and had been studying for months. Even in Paris, Tony made fun of her for wanting to memorize the entire Constitution.

He nodded, reaching towards her. She let him, smiling as his arms looped around her waist, pulling her against him. "We'll always have Paris," he drawled, still smiling at her in that cocky way of his. It did not even bother her anymore. If anything it just made her smile.

"How long have you been waiting to say that?"

"Since we left."

She chuckled, reaching up to his face and lightly kissed him. The memories of Somalia that haunted her dreams had faded daily, leaving her with vague nightmares and restless sleep. That night had been a turning point and she wasn't sure why. She felt safe. Maybe that was it. No matter what though, she'd treasure it. If anything, they diffused a certain tension that had been simmering since Ari shot Kate. Now maybe they could move on, they could just be friends. "I will miss you, but will see you soon," she said, kissing him again.

He kept her closer against him, breaking the kiss a few seconds later. "Here's looking at you kid."

And with that, she thought, grinning, she let him go, watching as he tipped his fingers to his temple and silently saluted her, turning on his heel to walk away, leaving her standing in place in front of the hotel. She waited a few minutes, in case he turned around, but he didn't. So she turned and went into the hotel to prepare for her flight to Spain. They'd see each other again.