When Ziva arrived at work the next morning she was in a thoughtful mood. After waking up on her couch in a relaxed cocoon of DiNozzo the previous morning, she hadn't had much time during the day to think about how it had happened or what it meant. While the case work they'd begun yesterday hadn't been as intense or urgent as one of their normal cases, there had been enough to do to keep her mind from wandering back to how nice it had felt to wake up like that and how comfortable Tony had seemed. But after returning home after work, she had nothing but time to think about it.

It was not the first time they had shared a bed. Just weeks ago they'd slept side-by-side in wet and wild Miami, and even with the benefit of a queen-sized bed on that occasion they had still remained touching each other through the night. One night in Paris he'd let her sleep curled up against his side while his hand on her hip kept her grounded. They had shared a hotel room bed for a few nights soon after they had met, and there had definitely been some snuggling going on then (albeit the awake and completely aware type). They had fallen asleep on each other's shoulders on flights all around the world, and once upon a time during a particularly long and drawn-out case, they'd even done it on the floor in the bullpen.

But the previous morning was the first one that they'd ever woken up so entwined. And it was the first one where they'd woken up and looked at each other like it was the most natural thing in the world. Somehow it had felt like it was something they were just doing now, but she had missed the conversation where they decided that was the way it was going to be. She didn't mind that it was happening, of course. She just felt a little confused. But then, when it came to her relationship with Tony, what else was new?

The trip they had taken to Miami had been in the lead up to the purported Rapture. The end of days. Neither of them had taken the warnings of doomsday prophets seriously, of course, but on the night the world was supposed to end, Tony had kissed her. It wasn't a chaste kiss between friends who were sharing a joke, but the kind that had turned her bones to Jell-O and set fire to her underwear. Shortly after that kiss Tony had gone home, and the next day they had been a little uncertain around each other. She hadn't regretted the kiss, and neither had Tony. She could read in his face that he wanted another one as much as she did, and for a few days they both seemed to advance and retreat out of sync with each other. Then things had just sort of gone back to normal, where they shared a lot of heavy looks, the occasional electric touch, and generally teased each other to make the first move. It was absolutely maddening.

And then…DiNozzo cocoon. It seemed as though they were beginning to advance on each other again. And this time Ziva desperately wanted them to be in sync. She felt ready for it. She thought he was, too. It was just about time to sit down and work out what the hell they were going to do.

But first, they had a case to solve.

As usual, Ziva beat the rest of the team into work that Sunday morning. But she didn't beat Borin, who was sitting in Tony's chair with her feet up on his desk and a cup of coffee in her hand. The Coast Guard Special Agent had gotten back in touch with Gibbs the previous afternoon to apologize that she wouldn't be able to make it as planned. An active case had required her immediate attention and she couldn't go on a field trip to the Navy Yard. But she promised she'd be there to take them through her Caribbean Carnivalé files bright and early the next morning. She'd kept her word—particularly the 'early' one. As Ziva rounded the corner, Borin smiled at her and then made a point of looking at her watch.

"You guys start late here," she baited.

Ziva dropped her backpack beside her desk and then walked over to stand by Tony's desk. "It is Sunday," she said. "We get to start an hour later on Sundays."

"Well, that sounds entirely too reasonable for Gibbs," Borin drawled.

It always had to Ziva as well, but she was smart enough not to mention it. She gestured at Borin. "You had a look over your files?" she guessed, bringing up the reason for Borin's visit.

Borin nodded and swung her legs off Tony's desk. "Yeah, and call me crazy but I think there might be something to your widow's story."

"What did you find?"

Borin glanced towards the elevator. "How much longer do you think Gibbs will be?"

"Not long."

"Save me from repeating myself?" Borin asked.

Ziva shrugged and returned to her desk. "Of course." She sat down and booted up her computer. By the time she entered her password, she became aware that Borin was staring at her. She looked up in question, and a knowing smile broke over Borin's face. Ziva wasn't sure that she liked it.

"Got a question for you," Borin said.

"Ask it."

"You and DiNozzo," she started, but changed what she was going to say at the sharp look of warning that Ziva shot at her. "No, just wait."

"We are not dating," Ziva told her, cutting to the chase. It was the truth.

"I know," Borin said with a confidence that ended up stinging Ziva's pride. "But I'm curious about the coziness."

"Coziness?"

"Your little twosome amongst the foursome."

Ziva gave Borin her most impassive look, and then went of the offensive. "Did you feel left out the other night?"

"Nope. I think that was DiNozzo." Borin stood up and walked over to Ziva's desk. "I think we got loud and he got intimidated."

"Introspective," Ziva corrected, and then frowned. "He thinks were are trouble."

"You and him?"

"No, me and you," she said.

Borin chuckled. "Not yet. But we could be." She rested her hip on the corner of Ziva's desk. "Tell me about the coziness."

Ziva sighed heavily, and her eyes implored Borin to drop it. But Borin just returned a pleading look.

"Come on. I haven't had a date in a year. Let me live vicariously through you."

Ziva crossed her arms and sat back in her chair. "Oh, you want me to tell you about the last man I dated who proposed in a very inappropriate way and is now doing a minimum of 20 years in prison for murder?"

Borin's shoulders slumped. "No. That sounds really depressing. I want you to tell me about what you and Tony did after I left you guys the other night. You know, the fun stuff!"

Ziva couldn't help smirking. "What makes you think we did anything?"

Borin leaned towards her a little, and her knowing smile was back. "Call it a gut feeling."

They held gazes for a moment, and Ziva's heart started pounding with the anticipation of spilling her guts. She knew that she shouldn't. She did not know Borin all that well, and she was still a colleague more than a friend. But she knew instinctively that Borin was someone to be trusted, and she had to admit that the lure of talking it all over with someone who could understand the professional predicament a relationship with her partner would bring was strong. Of course, Ziva knew she could always talk to Abby. The forensic scientist would probably jump at the chance to have what some women would call a 'girly' talk about Ziva's love life. But she had always felt as though Abby was just a little too close to the situation to be impartial. Borin felt safer.

She felt her resistance wane and leaned forward again. But before she could tell Borin about the DiNozzo cocoon, she heard the elevator ding and felt a tingle on the back of her neck. It was too late.

"Gibbs is here," she said.

Borin, who had seemed to sense that Ziva was about to share her thoughts, frowned at the new and unexpected direction of their conversation. "What's that?"

"Gibbs," Ziva repeated, and pointed behind Borin at the flash of sports coat and coffee passing behind her.

Borin straightened and twisted to look around. Sure enough, Gibbs had arrived and had almost reached his desk. Borin stood up again.

"Morning, Gibbs."

"You bring your files?" Gibbs asked by way of greeting.

Borin took no offence at him cutting right to the chase. She dug a USB drive out of her pocket and handed it to Ziva. "Six of them," she said. "Should we wait for the others?"

"Nope."

"Okay." Borin glanced at Ziva, who brought up her files on the plasma screen. "In the last six months there have been 20 incidents on board the Caribbean Carnivalé that the Coast Guard has investigated. Five assaults, 12 thefts, two sexual assaults and the death of Ensign Crawford."

"You bring charges on any of the others?" Gibbs asked.

Borin shook her head as Ziva stood and joined the two of them in front of the plasma. "None of them really had any legs," Borin said. "An ID was made in one of the attempted sexual assaults, but there were no witnesses, no evidence, and both parties had been drinking heavily. The most recent assault case involved a passenger named Ken Klein. He was beaten up on his last night at sea, but he couldn't remember seeing who did it."

"He was beaten severely?" Ziva asked.

"Not so bad," Borin said dismissively. "He got a black eye and some cuts, and he passed out. But he was cleared of a concussion. Surprise, surprise, he'd been drinking pretty heavily as well."

"Is that all people do on cruises?"

Borin shrugged. "It seems like it."

"When did this happen?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh…" Borin looked around for the clicker, and Ziva grabbed it from the corner of McGee's desk to hand it over. Borin hit a button, which brought up the next file on the screen, and she kept hitting it until she got to the right place. "Okay, it was reported as having taken place on June 23."

Something pined in Ziva's head. "Gibbs, the Paulsons were on board the Caribbean Carnivalé on June 23. That was the trip they took after the one they shared with the Crawfords."

Borin 'tsk'ed at her. "I was just getting to that," she admonished gently.

"Sorry."

Borin looked at Gibbs. "Like I said, this guy Klein couldn't remember seeing who did it. But he did report that he had an altercation with John Paulson the day before the attack. Apparently Klein saw Paulson in port in the Dominican Republic buying kids toys, but they didn't have kids with them."

"Dominican Republic," Ziva repeated. "That is the port where Alicia Crawford said her husband saw something he wanted to report to ship security."

Borin nodded. "Right. Klein said he later heard Paulson talking to another passenger about making a drop in Key West. He saw them take the toys off the ship, but didn't return with them. Paulson noticed him staring and yelled at him to mind his own business. That night, Klein got beaten up."

"Paulson's occupation is a toy maker," Gibbs said. "It wouldn't be unusual for him to buy some or give them to other people."

"What kind of toys did Klein say he bought?" Ziva asked.

"Two large stuffed bears."

Ziva looked at Gibbs. "Paulson makes wooden toys," she said. "Rocking horses."

Gibbs held her gaze for a moment, weighing up whether to add this information to the important list or not. Then he looked at Borin and smirked. "What else've you got, Borin?"

She grinned and eagerly shared what was on her mind. "We couldn't bring any charges, but the agent who worked that case had a theory that I think holds water."

"Give it to me."

"That ship is being used to smuggle something," Borin said. "Paulson's in on it. So is the other passenger who Klein saw him talking to about the drop. And I reckon they'd need to have someone on the ship working with them too who helps them get things on the ship from the Dominican Republic."

"What things?" Ziva wanted to know.

"Drugs, guns, money," Borin said. "Take your pick."

"Not guns," Gibbs said, shaking his head. "You don't pick up guns from the Dominican Republic and drop them in Florida. Everyone already has a gun in Florida."

"But there is always a market for cocaine," Ziva said.

"Colombia is a big supplier," Borin added. "And these days one of the best ways to get Colombian cocaine to the US is via someplace else. Like the Dominican Republic or Puerto Rico."

"Smugglers could make a lot of money," Ziva said to Gibbs. "Especially if it is a family business."

"Paulson and his brother," Gibbs said.

She nodded. "Their spending habits do not match their incomes. We know this."

"Right now that doesn't have anything to do with the death of Ensign Crawford."

"No," Ziva said slowly. "But Alicia said he saw something disturbing on their day trip to the Dominican Republic, which is where Klein also saw something. And they have both implicated the Paulsons. The incidents happened on the same ship and on the same route. They could be coincidences, but we do not believe in coincidences."

Gibbs gave her a flat look and then turned back to the plasma. He tapped Klein's photo. "This guy. Klein. We need to talk to him again. I want to know if he's remembered who attacked him."

"I'll talk to him," Borin said.

Ziva and Gibbs both looked at her with surprise.

Borin pointed to herself. "Klein's case is a Coast Guard case," she said obviously. "At least right now. And if it looks like this case really is related to yours, then they'll both become ours."

Gibbs watched her for a moment before breaking into a smirk. "Take Ziva with you."

Borin smiled at the compromise. "Happy to."

Ziva turned to retrieve her backpack, and then joined Borin at the mouth of the bullpen. "Where does Klein live?"

"Virginia Beach," Borin said, then turned her head to address Gibbs over her shoulder. "We'll be a little while."

Gibbs sat at his desk and stabbed at his keyboard. "Then you better come back with some evidence."

Ziva and Borin smirked at each other and headed for the elevator. The doors opened just before they reached it and Tony stepped out looking relaxed and not even a little bit concerned that he was late for work. His smile brightened when he saw them.

"Hey! Where are you two off to already? Are you getting coffee?"

"We're going fishing, DiNozzo," Borin replied, and stepped into the elevator.

Tony frowned with confusion. "Fishing?" He looked at Ziva for a translation.

"Interviewing a witness," Ziva told him, and joined Borin in the elevator.

Tony retraced his steps to the lift. "Witness?" he asked, standing on the other side of the doors. "We have a witness? I'm ten minutes late. How much did I miss?"

"Less than McGee," Ziva replied, and then the doors closed. She turned to Borin. "You know, it is not like McGee to be so late."

Borin shrugged. "Maybe he spent the night hiding sausages again."

…

Ken Klein was the kind of man who people probably forgot about almost as soon as they had met him. He was average height, average weight and had mid-brown hair cut into an average style. None of his facial features were particularly odd, interesting or attractive. There was nothing about his chinos and polo shirt that would have made him stand out from the crowd. He didn't have any visible scars or tattoos, and he spoke with a mainstream accent that could have placed his birthplace in any one of 40 states. The guy was utterly average.

He was, however, noticeably annoyed by two federal agents showing up at his cookie cutter home on a Sunday morning. But even then he made an effort to get over it and politely invite them inside for a cup of coffee at a table covered by the Sunday papers.

"Sorry about the mess," he told them. "We weren't expecting company."

The 'we' he referred to included himself, his wife, Lollie, and their white puffball Pomeranian who yapped at Ziva and Borin at an ear-splitting frequency. Lollie wasn't there to meet the agents, Ken explained, because she had already left for her regular Sunday morning session at the gym. A photo of the two of them in the hallway showed a very average man standing over a woman who looked like she had walked off the set of The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

"We don't want to take up too much of your time, Mr Klein," Borin told him. "We just have some follow up questions about the assault on you on the Caribbean Carnivalé in June."

Klein looked between them with suspicion as he fed the puffball a morsel of bacon off his plate. "Yeah? It's been two months. Have you got some new information on who was responsible for handing my ass to me?"

"Actually, we were hoping you might," Ziva said. "Have you thought about the incident recently? Have you recalled any new information that might help us pin down the person responsible?"

Klein looked at her like he wasn't following her line of questioning. "Aren't you guys the investigators?" he pointed out.

"It is not uncommon to lose portions of your memory around the time of an attack or an accident," Ziva said. "But with time, these memories can return."

Klein ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair. "I don't know," he said, almost regretfully. "I remember having dinner that night. I remember going for a walk around the deck. Then I remember being in the infirmary with blood all over my face." He waved his hand through the air. "There's a vague memory of some kind of scuffle in there, but I've never been able to grab on to it."

Borin pulled out her iPad Mini and showed Klein a photo of John Paulson. "Do you recognize this man?"

Klein leaned forward abruptly. "Yeah, sure. That's, uh…John something. His surname is another first name." He glanced at Ziva. "You shouldn't trust people with a first name for a surname, you know that?"

Ziva smiled politely.

"His name is John Paulson," Borin told him.

Klein clicked his fingers, inadvertently scaring his dog in the process. "Yeah! Paulson. That's it. He was on the same cruise. I can't prove it, or else I would have already. But I've always had a feeling he and his buddy were the ones who beat me up."

Borin referred to her notes on her iPad. "In our initial investigation of your attack, you told the agent in charge that you had seen Paulson engaging in some strange behavior."

Klein shrugged. "Strange, yeah. I don't know if it was illegal."

"What happened?"

"We'd docked in the Dominican Republic for the day," Klein told them, and looked between them. "Have you ever been there?"

Ziva and Borin both shook their heads.

Klein smiled as his eyes fell to the table. "It's beautiful there. Crystal clear water. Palm trees. Color everywhere. Me and Lollie were having lunch that this place on the beach, and I saw Paulson and his buddy go into this shop across the road. I mean, I guess it was a shop. It didn't have a sign up or anything, but it wasn't a restaurant either. I didn't think anything of it until I saw them come out again about half an hour later, and they were both carrying these big stuffed teddy bears. That was kind of…unexpected, I guess."

"How big were the bears?" Ziva asked. If there were drugs stuffed into them, she wanted an idea of how much they were talking about.

Klein held his hands up, about two feet apart. "Not person-sized or anything. But bigger than what you'd give to a real small kid."

"And then what?" Borin asked.

"He looked across the street at me," Klein said. "And I just smiled and nodded, because we'd crossed paths a couple of times on the ship. I was just being friendly. I didn't see him again until a day or two later, and I just brought it up with him. Making conversation. I asked if they were for his kids, but he just said no, they were for friends. And he seemed kind of annoyed that I'd asked."

"Did he say anything about where these friends were?" Ziva asked.

Klein thought about it and then shook his head. "No. But I thought he might've meant they were back home."

"What happened then?"

"I guess nothing until our second last day," Klein said. "We'd docked in Key West for the day, and we were all lining up to get off the ship. I saw Paulson and his friend up ahead, and they were holding those teddy bears again. I nudged Lollie and we were sort of talking to ourselves about it when Paulson looked over and saw us looking and talking. And he looked pissed. Like, he didn't say anything, but you could just see in his eyes that he was angry. Over what, you know? Seemed weird."

"He took the bears off the ship?" Ziva checked.

Klein nodded. "Uh-huh. And later that night I saw him and his friend get back on board, and they didn't have them. And I guess I'm not a very good spy, or else I'm just really good at being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because he saw me looked at him again, and he said something to his friend, and they both looked really angry with me."

"You keep talking about his friend," Borin said. "Who was that?"

"I think his name was Mike. Mike, um…Rowe?" Klein paused and chuckled. "No, that's the guy on Discovery Channel. It wasn't him. But it was something like that. And he was traveling with his wife, but I never got her name."

"Did it seem as though they'd just met on the cruise?" Ziva asked.

"Couldn't say," Klein replied. "We didn't spend enough time with either of them."

"Would you be able to identify him if you saw him again?"

"Yeah, probably."

Ziva nodded and looked at Borin. The interview had not been as fruitful as she had hoped, but she couldn't think of anything else they could ask him. But Borin had one more thing.

"Do you, by any chance, have any pictures from the cruise that you could lend us?" she asked. "It might help us to look at the people in the background."

Klein didn't look particularly enthusiastic about that. "Uh, I'd kind of prefer not to."

Ziva plastered a kind smile on her face. "Mr Klein, we are not interested in seeing any personal photos you might have. Just those with other cruisers in the background."

Klein swallowed audibly. "Who are you going to share them with?"

"No one," Borin assured him. "Just our team."

Klein slowly got to his feet and shuffled towards the kitchen door. "Wait here, please," he muttered, and then left the room.

Borin turned to look at Ziva with wide eyes. "Naked selfies?" she suggested in a whisper.

Ziva made a face. "I hope not."

Borin leaned down and held her hand out to the Pomeranian who was sitting obediently by her master's chair and staring at them with all the suspicion that a tiny dog could muster. "Hi, puppy," she cooed, trying to get it to come closer for a pat. The dog didn't move. Borin 'tsk'ed to herself and sat up straight again. "Whatever," she said dismissively.

"We will have to check the passenger manifests for the cruises that the Paulsons were on and see if Mike Rowe turned up on any of them," Ziva said.

"I have an inappropriate crush on that guy," Borin said. "And I would just love to question him."

Ziva wasn't entirely sure who the man in question was, but Klein returned before she could ask. He handed Borin a USB drive, but couldn't meet her eyes.

"Please, just…keep them private," he said. "Me and Lollie don't need the exposure."

"Of course," Borin said with a professional smile.

Klein stood awkwardly in front of them as they got to their feet.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Klein," Ziva told him.

"Sure," he said, and followed them down the hallway to the front door. "But I gotta ask. How is looking at these pictures going to help confirm Paulson was the guy who beat me up?"

Borin stopped at the door and shared a fleeting, guilty look with Ziva before addressing Klein. "Maybe it won't," she told him honestly. "But if we notice anyone suspicious then we can track them down and question them about what they saw."

It didn't make much sense, but Klein nodded along. "Okay."

Borin nodded and opened the door, and she and Ziva stepped out onto the porch.

"Thank you again," Ziva threw over her shoulder.

Klein nodded as the agents stepped down onto the path leading to the driveway. They were halfway to the car when he called out to them. "You're going to return those photos, right?"

"Of course," Borin called back to him. "I promise we will take the utmost care."

They got into Borin's car, and before she'd even started the engine she said, "I can't wait to see what's on that drive."

Ziva snorted. "Perhaps you and Tony would make a better investigative pair than you and I. He will be most happy to go through the photos with you. And he will probably bring popcorn."

Borin smirked as she backed down the driveway, and then put the car in drive and took off quickly. "I could have guessed that about him."

Ziva looked over at her with fleeting guilt. "I do not think we were entirely upfront with Klein about our reason for questioning him."

Borin waved her hand between them dismissively. "Yeah, but who knows? If we can pin Paulson for killing Crawford, then we might be able to get him to confess to beating up Klein as well."

"Perhaps."

Borin turned off Klein's street to join the heavier traffic on the arterial road, and then immediately laid on the horn at the slow-moving traffic. "Goddamn Sunday drivers," she muttered. "I hate them so much."

Ziva smiled to herself. On the way to Klein's house Borin had driven quickly, aggressively and recklessly. She made a mental note to hold Borin up as an example of 'bad' driving the next tome Tony or McGee gave her crap about how many accidents she had, or about wanting to be a NASCAR driver.

After ten minutes of swearing, horn-blaring and illegal maneuvering before they made it to the expressway. The traffic was just as heavy but it was moving much faster and Borin's mood brightened considerably. She adjusted her sunglasses and threw a smile at Ziva.

"So. I believe you were going to tell me all about Tony."

Ziva chuckled to herself. She had thought that Borin had forgotten about that. While she had been on the brink of discussing it in the bullpen, now she had lost her nerve. She played coy in the hope that Borin would drop it. "Oh, is that what you thought?"

Borin looked like she couldn't believe Ziva was trying to deny it. "Oh, come on. I spend my days questioning people. I know the look they get on their faces when they're about to spill their secrets. It's the same look you had before Gibbs walked in and ruined everything."

For a moment Ziva forgot all about Tony as she dealt with being offended by the idea that Borin could break her in an interrogation. Even if that was what had been about to happen. "I was not about to talk," she lied.

Borin took her eyes off the road to give her passenger her second incredulous look in under a minute. "Yes, you were," she argued.

Ziva crossed her arms defensively. "You would not believe the interrogations and physical torture I have stood up to," she said stubbornly. "And I have never broken."

Whether Borin believed her or not, Ziva wasn't sure. But she must have at least sensed something in Ziva's tone that told her not to erode her pride any further. She dipped her head and let Ziva have her way.

"Okay. Let's not consider talking about ourselves as 'breaking'," Borin suggested. "Let's consider it as just being friends."

"Fine."

"Fine." Borin paused for a beat. "So, buddy. Tell me about you and Tony."

Ziva closed her eyes over a quiet sigh. "I do not know what to say."

"There's interest there."

Ziva didn't reply. Of course there was interest there, but saying it aloud to another person was difficult.

"There's more than interest there," Borin continued. "There are strong and ongoing adult feelings."

Ziva frowned slightly. That sounded rather...formal.

"Feelings that aren't just about screwing."

Ziva's head turned at the unexpected and contrasting language. Borin was wearing that knowing grin again.

"Would you tell him?" Borin asked.

"Tell him what, exactly?" Ziva asked.

Borin switched lanes without looking so she could overtake an old Ford pickup. "That you want to jump his bones."

Ziva stared at her as she tried to work out how to answer. She tried to bring the conversation back to something that would not get her in quite as much trouble. "Look, Tony and I…our relationship is very…complicated."

"That's obvious," Borin said.

Ziva turned her head to look out the window and tried to order her thoughts. "We are at a delicate place," she said.

"Are you thinking of making a move on him?" Borin asked.

Ziva didn't quite know how to respond to that. Technically, moves had been made. Now they were just trying to work out what the next move was, and how big it should be.

"Are you worried about him turning you down?" Borin pushed when Ziva didn't respond. "Because I doubt he would. I mean, I don't know your relationship or even your partnership that well. But it's clear to even the most casual observer that you guys are special to each other."

Ziva's heartbeat picked up. "Yes," she admitted. "But that does not necessarily mean that we will get what we want."

"Of course it doesn't," Borin agreed. "But doing something gives you a 100 per cent better chance at getting something than doing nothing does. Right?"

Ziva turned her head to look at her. "Yes. But doing something still needs to be done delicately. Carefully. With consideration."

Borin scrunched her nose at her disagreeably. "I don't associate any of those words with either of you."

It was the truth, and Ziva had to chuckle. "Fine. But in this case, a measured approach is for the best."

"Maybe," Borin said. "Or maybe it'll lead to us still having this conversation in another eight years." She paused as a stab of disappointment went through Ziva's chest. "How does that sound to you?"

Unbearably frustrating, Ziva thought to herself. If she had to wait another eight years to wake up with Tony like she had yesterday, Ziva knew she would lose her mind.

Borin was right. She really had to make a move.

So, some case work but also a good dose of Borin. Yay, Borin! Thanks all for continuing to read and leave notes. You'd be forgiven for not believing me, but I promise there is a big T/Z side of this story coming.