The last time Tony had been on a cruise ship was so long ago that Ziva hadn't even been born yet. It wasn't too hard to accept, then, that he couldn't remember what the check-in process back then had been like, and how it compared to the embarkation agony they'd been through today. If he had to guess, he would say it couldn't. Back in the 70s, cruise liners didn't carry as many people, and the security was about as tight as a kaftan on a hippie. Today, Tony and Ziva had been just two of 3,000 others who'd been scanned, interrogated and cavity-searched (maybe not the last one) before embarking. All up, it had taken them about four hours from arriving at the cruise ship terminal in Ft Lauderdale to get on board, roughly three hours longer than Tony had perhaps naively expected. He was tempted to take the glass of champagne that had been offered to them when they stepped on board to take the edge off his mood. But the subtle shake of Ziva's head changed his mind. They were on duty, and that meant no drinking until they were back in DC and the case was closed.
Instead of heading to their room, they joined the crowds of people heading up to the pool deck for the sail away party. They were eager to get eyes on the Paulsons and Roses and insert themselves into their little friendship group, but it was proving difficult to locate any of them amongst the thousands of other people walking around. They briefly considered splitting up to cover more ground, but a quick glance around the deck was enough to tell them that it would probably make them stick out. Every other passenger was in a couple. Or a group. The lone people walking around ended up with at least one other person. This cruise was not a place for singles. And it certainly wasn't a place for singles to stand around taking photos of groups of passengers they'd never met as they looked for six specific faces. So they stuck together and ambled slowly but with purpose all the way along the deck, keeping their eyes peeled for the Paulsons while trying to make it look like they were checking out the pools, the bars and the ocean. By the time they made it to the ship's stern they hadn't had any luck.
They leaned casually against the railing overlooking the back of the ship, and Tony looked down at his partner. The wind was blowing from behind her, giving her a face full of hair that she couldn't tame even with both hands, so he moved around to the other side of her. When she looked up at him this time, face into the wind, he could actually see her features.
"Thank you," she said.
Tony nodded and then gestured around them at the crowd. "Maybe the Paulsons are already in the buffet line," he said quietly.
"Or on one of the upper decks," Ziva said.
Tony tilted his head back and squinted through the late afternoon sunshine to look at the ship towering above them. "So many decks," he sighed. "It's going to be a difficult location for two of us to keep under surveillance," he said.
Ziva looked over her shoulder at him with a playful smirk. "You would like Gibbs to be here too, yes?" she teased. "And McGee and Borin…"
"I think you'd like Borin to be here," he countered.
She looked around the deck again. "She is a lot of fun."
"I can be fun," he pointed out.
She sent him a sly smile. "Oh, I do not doubt it."
He smiled, but when he looked around again he felt a little apprehensive. They had spent their last hours at work yesterday looking at deck plans of the ship and memorizing all the walkways between common areas. He'd gotten a sense then of how large the cruise liner was, but his sense had been off. It was so much bigger than he'd expected. Just looking at it made him exhausted. That didn't bode well for the investigation. Maybe he was getting too old for this. Maybe he needed a long vacation. A real vacation. One where he didn't have to pretend to be someone else and investigate a possible murder. He could just spend a week sitting on his couch with a bunch of movies. Or he could go to Fiji and lie on the beach and watch beautiful women in bikinis wander by—
He stopped the thought abruptly as another thought dawned on him. Ziva was a beautiful woman. And she looked amazing in a bikini. And on this cruise, while playing her husband, he should be able to get away with looking at her in said bikini and appreciating the sight without the threat of a fist to his gut.
He smiled to himself and watched her as her eyes scanned the deck. A small, pleasant smile was on her face for the benefit of other passengers, and her almost bare shoulders were golden in the sunlight. He loved those shoulders. Especially the part where they turned into the curve of her neck. He'd built entire fantasies around kissing her there, and had hope that once they got back home they'd have that talk and maybe then he'd find out whether she would make the same noise he imagined she would when he kissed her.
Perhaps sensing his eyes on her, Ziva looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. "What?"
Tony smiled, but shook his head. "Nothing," he said, and then leaned in to kiss her cheek softly, just as a smitten husband would. She smelled like coconuts, sunscreen and her regular shampoo, and the combination made his stomach pleasantly tight. When he pulled back, Ziva was smirking at him, although not with malice.
"What was that for?" she asked.
He shrugged and ran his hand down her back. "Fun," he replied.
Ziva smiled, but then cast her eyes over the crowd around them again. "I suppose we may catch sight of them at the safety muster."
Tony nodded. All passengers had to attend a mandatory safety briefing before they headed out to sea. "I think we should hang back on making contact if we do. Thanks to Abby's skills we'll soon know what room they're in, right?"
Ziva looked up at him. "Yes."
"So I think we should head to our room, get our heads around the layout of the ship and then find out what our seating arrangements are for dinner."
Ziva nodded along. "So we can swap to the Paulsons' table. If we casually run into them now and then find ourselves seated with them at dinner…"
"And also charm the pants off them so we're invited into their inner circle for the rest of the trip," Tony threw in.
"Then it may seem fishy," Ziva finished.
"Yeah."
Ziva reached for his hand. "Let's go."
They only had to go down one floor to find their stateroom on deck 14. Paulson and his crew traveled in style, so Tony knew going into this that he and Ziva were likely to be traveling in style too, even though Vance hadn't signed off on sending them first class. He'd looked up the ship online so he had an idea of what to expect. But when he actually saw the room they got, he was taken aback. The room was big. At least 50 per cent bigger than he'd been expecting. There was a living room with a couch, a coffee table and a big television. Off the living room was a separate bedroom with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white sheets, another television, a small desk and another armchair. The bathroom was a bit pokey, but only because the cruise line had somehow managed to fit a small bathtub in there. And there was a private balcony running the length of the suite with two sun lounges that directly overlooked the ocean. Everything was decorated in blues and greens and wood painted white, giving the room a relaxing beachy feel.
Tony did a slow walk through the suite, investigating all the little luxuries that had been thrown in, and then met a bewildered-looking Ziva in the living room.
"I feel like we maybe should've dressed up a bit more for this place," he said to her, gesturing at his casual t-shirt and long shorts.
Ziva raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement and turned in a slow circle. "How much is this costing the agency?"
He shook his head quickly. "Let's not focus on that."
They sat down together on the couch with the mini ship map, ship newsletter, excursion pamphlet and their dining assignment spread out on the coffee table in front of them. Tony's eyes scanned over all the information as he tried to work out what to prioritize. Not surprisingly, he was drawn to the one that involved food. He picked up their dining assignment card and scanned it quickly.
"Okay, we've been put on a table with Ned and Carly Myers, Kiko and Nia Ishikawa and Fred and Wilma Bowersby," he read. He paused and looked at Ziva with a delighted grin. "No joke. Fred and Wilma."
Ziva frowned and cocked her head to the side. "What joke?"
"Are you kidding?" he asked in disbelief. "Fred and Wilma? Flintsone?"
"Who are they?"
Tony knew Ziva had a very different upbringing to him. They made allowances for their cultural and age gaps every day. But sometimes he couldn't believe that she was serious with her cluelessness.
"The Flintsones, Ziva," he said, raising his voice a bit as if that would help her understand. "Hanna-Barbera? Cartoon about families living in the stone age? They had a pet dinosaur."
Ziva shook her head slowly. It seemed she had genuinely never heard of Bedrock. "Is it recent?"
"No, it's from the 60s or something."
That piece of information made Ziva give him a look like she couldn't believe he expected her to know about something that came out 50 years ago, and Tony averted his eyes before he started pouting over that age gap. Nine days out of ten, he didn't feel it. But when he did…ouch.
"Okay," he said on a sigh, and got his thoughts back on track. "We're going to find a way to dump Fred and Wilma and get ourselves on a table with the Paulsons, at least."
"I am sure that a nice tip to the maitre d' should do it," Ziva said, and checked the clock on the wall. "We still have a while before dinner." She picked up the ship newsletter. "We will have time to walk some of the routes between the common areas we identified and work out whether they are the fastest."
Tony took the newsletter out of her hands and scanned the front page. "Ooh, buffet's on," he noted, feeling a little tickle at the prospect of the rivers of food ahead of him on the trip.
Ziva seemed less interested, but she refrained from making any comment about his plans to eat his way around the Caribbean. "We should go down and find the maitre d' now," she suggested.
"And maybe grab a burger," Tony threw in. "You know, to blend in with everyone else."
Following the ship's mini map, Tony and Ziva went back up to the pool deck and headed towards the bow of the ship. Along the way they kept their eyes open for the Paulsons and Roses, but mostly they had to carefully weave their way around other passengers who were already drinking heavily and wandering around in swimsuits. The sun lounges and deck chairs were plentiful, the shade umbrellas scarce, the music was upbeat and the cocktails were colorful. Already there were cruise employees on deck getting passengers involved in games—limbo, belly flop competitions, something that involved passing balloons from one person to another using only their knees—and people were dancing, swimming and lounging with gusto as if they'd been waiting to do it for years.
After a few wrong turns, they finally stepped into the foyer area of the formal dining room. The double doors nearest to them were open, so they poked their heads inside and looked for someone to help them. Staff were running around setting up a hundred or more tables, and there was one man standing at the reception area and looking through dozens of staples pieces of paper. He was in a gleaming white blazer, had a gleaming bald dome, and wore a gleaming name badge that said Augusto Acosta, Maitre d'.
"Excuse me, sir?" Ziva said.
Augusto looked up with a friendly smile already in place.
"Buenos tardes," he greeted. "My name is Augusto Acosta, and how may I help you?"
Ziva reached for Tony's hand and they both turned friendly smiles on him.
"My husband and I were wondering if we could talk to you about changing our seating assignment," Ziva said. "We met a couple while we were in the line to embark and we really hit it off with them. It would be so much fun to have dinner with them."
"Of course," Augusto said. "I'm so pleased to hear you are making friends already. What are your names, señora?"
"Zara and Tom De Luca," Ziva told him. "And the couple is John and Sacha Paulson." She paused and looked back at Tony with a small frown. "Is that right, darling?"
"I think so," Tony said, playing along.
"Ah, the Paulsons!" Augusto exclaimed. "We know them well on the Caribbean Carnivalé. One of my favorite couples. They are always a pleasure to have on board. Good people for the first time cruisers to talk to as well. They know all the islands and the activities. We should pay them, you know?"
Tony chuckled politely and looked at Ziva. She had a serene smile on her face, but her attention was on the dining room beyond. He'd bet $50 that she was memorizing the exits.
"So it's no problem to change?" Tony asked.
"No, no problem," Augusto said. "I will take care of that for you now, Mr De Luca."
"Which table is ours?" he asked.
"It is over near what I call 'the pointy end', Mr De Luca," he said. "By the windows on port side. It's one of our best tables. You will get a beautiful view of the sunset."
"It sounds wonderful," Ziva said, tuning back in. "How often do you think the Paulsons have been aboard your ship?"
Augusto put his fingers to his lips. "Hmm, I am not sure. Perhaps six or seven times? They enjoy themselves immensely."
"They must," Ziva said with a smile. "Do they always travel by themselves?"
"No, they have friends," Augusto told her. "I think they will also be on your table. They are a lovely group. You will enjoy your time with them."
"Thank you so much for your help," Ziva said.
"My pleasure, Mrs De Luca. If there is anything else I can do to make your trip more enjoyable, please let me know."
"There is one thing," Tony said. "Point us towards the buffet?"
Augusto pointed it out on the mini map, and Tony and Ziva left him with thanks.
"That was easy," he commented to her as they stepped back out onto the deck.
Ziva slid her sunglasses down from her head to shield her eyes. "It must not be an unusual request."
They headed towards the bow and found a free space against the railing overlooking the dock. It looked as though all the passengers were now on board, and Tony suspected they'd be setting sail any time now.
Ziva nudged him with her elbow. "Now that we have our table secured, you have to do that thing you do that a lot of people seem to find charming."
Tony wasn't sure if there was a compliment in there or not. "You mean, when I'm my normal wonderful self?"
Ziva scrunched her nose. "No, not that."
He raised an eyebrow at her, and she waved her hand dismissively.
"I mean when you do the talking and smiling thing, but not the overbearing talking thing. Yes?"
Tony stuck his tongue in his cheek and held on to the cutting remark that sprung to mind. "I know how to flirt with people to make them like me, yes," he assured her. She opened her mouth again, but he cut her off. "No, I don't mean flirting in a romantic way. Yes, I know what you're talking about."
Ziva nodded. "Good. You need to do that." She turned her attention back to the dock, but Tony put his arm across the railing in front of her to get her attention. When she looked up at him, he leaned in with a 'charming' smile.
"And you know how there have been fleeting moments in the past when you've been friendly and charming? You need to do that, too."
Ziva blinked at him, and then softened her gaze and slid into a warm smile. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek. "Of course, darling," she almost purred. "The Paulsons will find us irresistible."
…
By the time Tony and Ziva arrived at the formal dinner that evening, the huge room was already packed with men in tuxedos and women in silk, lace, chiffon and sequins in every color imaginable. Perfume was heavy in the thick, hot air, and people were shouting their conversations to be heard over everyone else. The lighting was low and tables were dressed with pristine white linens, polished silverware and large, colorful bunches of flowers. It was almost like being at an elaborate wedding with a few hundred strangers, and everyone was the bride and groom.
A waiter in red coattails who probably hadn't stopped smiling since passengers embarked greeted them, and led them through the maze of tables towards the 'pointy end' of the ship, as promised by Augusto, the maitre d'. They went single file to allow other cruisers and waiters carrying huge trays laden with drinks to pass, and that gave Tony a reasonable excuse to lag behind Ziva and stare at her bare back that was exposed by her navy blue dress. He pulled cartoonishly at his bow tie. Mamma mia, the woman could wear the hell out of an evening dress.
"Here you are, Mr and Mrs De Luca," the waiter said, sweeping his hand towards their already occupied table. "You'll be sharing your dining experience tonight with the Paulsons and the Roses."
Tony and Ziva plastered big, friendly smiles on their faces as they came face-to-face with their marks. On Tony's left was Sacha Paulson, with shoulder-length tawny curls, light brown eyes and a big smile. Her face was round and she probably collected a lot of friends with her naturally friendly smile. Her emerald green dress was overshadowed by a giant black pendant necklace and matching earrings that Tony was almost positive her husband John, sitting to her left, wouldn't have been confident enough to pick out for her.
John's black dinner suit was a little too big on him, and it seemed strange to Tony that a guy with plenty of disposable income (allegedly) wouldn't get his suits tailored to fit. Perhaps he'd lost weight recently, Tony thought, but he still had the rounded belly of a man in his 40s who'd done his fair share of time at the buffet line. Although perhaps an outdoor one, because the guy's skin was tanned almost to a leather saddle, which contrasted strangely with his sandy blonde hair.
To Ziva's right sat the Roses, Julie and Martin. Julie was closer to Ziva's age than the others, blonde and likely bubbly if her big smile was anything to go by. Her tan looked like it came from a high-end spray bottle, but it looked good against her bright red dress. Tony had the distinct impression that she was up for anything on the promise of a good time, and that seemed to sit in contrast to the careful, guarded smile of her husband.
Like John Paulson, Martin Rose's grey suit didn't quite fit him properly, but Tony didn't think he cared. He had the ageing beefcake body of a former athlete, and the thinning, receding hairline that Tony was beginning to see on McGee.
If Tony had one thing to thank his father for, it was follicular density.
Their dining companions (well, Sacha and Julie, anyway) were so welcoming that it put Tony a little on edge. He shared a very brief look of confirmation with Ziva when he pulled out her chair for her, and he let his hand brush against her bare shoulder as he found his own seat.
"Can I get you champagne to start with?" the waiter asked them.
"And mineral water too, thank you," Ziva said.
"Oh! Are you on a babymoon?" Julie Rose asked, grabbing Ziva's hand across the table.
Tony watched Ziva's mouth fall open, and he couldn't blame her. Talk about a first impression.
"A…babymoon?" Ziva repeated, clearly not understanding the word.
Sacha Paulson waved her hand across the table at her friend, miming smacking her in the face. "Julie! Boundaries!" she warned, but did so with a laugh.
Julie's expression turned utterly apologetic, and the extreme change had Tony wondering whether she was drunk already. "I'm so sorry," she gushed, looking between Tony and Ziva. "I don't even know your names yet and I'm already asking personal questions. I'm Julie, this is my husband Martin. And that's Sacha and John."
"Zara De Luca," Ziva said. "And my husband, Tom."
"Welcome aboard!" Sacha said. "Is this your first time cruising?"
"Yes," Ziva said, and put her hand on Tony's on the tabletop. "It is our first anniversary."
"So many people come cruising for their anniversaries," Julie told them. "And honeymoons. It's like your first test as a married couple. Can you survive being stuck in a room with your new spouse for eight days?" She laughed and then seemed to turn deadly serious. "Some people don't make it. I've seen it more than once."
For the life of him, Tony couldn't work out if this was her sense of humor, or if she was drunk, or if she was being serious. He took a punt and smiled. "Well, we've made it to four years without killing each other, so I think our chances are good."
Ziva turned her head to shoot him a small smile that seemed more Ziva-like than Zara-like, and he realized that his comment was actually honest of their real relationship. And it wasn't hyperbole. There had been one or two moments when things had been very, very close to spiraling out of control. Sure, it wasn't an indicator of a normal, healthy relationship. But it was theirs.
"We must be doing okay, right hon?" John Paulson said, speaking up for the first time since greeting them. He rubbed Sacha's shoulder. "We've done a few in our time."
Sacha smiled at him, but it struck Tony as vaguely dismissive. He filed that away to talk to Ziva about later.
"A few cruises?" he asked.
"Don't know how many," John told them, and he was probably telling the truth. "But plenty. Them too." He nodded at Julie and Martin.
"Oh, have you all met before?" Ziva asked, looking between the couples.
"Old friends," Martin said, staring at John Paulson over the rim of his glass.
"You are all friends who vacation together?" Ziva asked, then looked at Tony with a shy smile. "I think we may have gatecrashed something."
Tony raised his eyebrows in agreement, but Sacha and Julie almost tripped over themselves to reassure them they were welcome.
"Oh, no!" they both cried in unison.
"We love meeting the new cruisers," Sacha told them. "We love showing the Caribbean to them."
Julie leaned a little further over the table. "Have you booked in for any shore tours yet?"
Ziva shook her head. "No, we were a bit disorganized."
"But you seem like the people to talk to about that," Tony added with a smile.
Sacha winked at him, but he was almost certain she wasn't flirting with him. "We can give you some tips. It's important that you take this time to have as much fun as you can away from work."
"Absolutely," Julie agreed. "What do you do, Tom?"
"I'm a physiotherapist, actually," Tony said as the waiter brought them their drinks. "Thanks. Yeah, I work at a small practice in Richmond. See a lot of veterans."
"Oh, that's great!" Julie enthused. "My uncle's a veteran. He went to Vietnam and he came back with a really bad leg. He only started getting physio a couple of years ago, but it's really helped him."
"That's good news," Tony said.
"What about you, Lana?" Sacha asked.
"Zara," Ziva corrected.
Sacha reached across the table for her in apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Zara!"
"It's fine," Ziva told her. "I am a languages tutor. Mostly high school and college students."
"Oh? Which language?" Julie asked.
Tony chuckled and looked at Ziva with pride. "All of them," he said.
Ziva shot him a smile. "Some of them," she corrected. "Spanish, Italian, French, Russian, and a working understanding of Portuguese." She'd left out Arabic, Turkish and Hebrew, but mentioning Arabic and Turkish would probably raise unnecessary questions, and her cover identity was not Israeli or Jewish.
The others looked suitably impressed.
"Wow," Julie said. "Most people from around here struggle with two."
"I traveled a lot as a child," Ziva explained. "Lived all over the place."
"They say kids are like sponges when it comes to that stuff," Sacha told Julie.
"And what do you do, Sacha?" Ziva asked.
Sacha reached for her wine glass. "I sell pharmaceuticals. You need anything? Xanax? Oxy-Contin?" Before Ziva even had a chance to react, she laughed and waved her hand. "I'm kidding."
"And how about you, John?" Tony asked.
"I-uh, make custom toys for kids," he said. "Mostly traditional kind of stuff out of wood. Cars, boats, rocking horses. That kind of thing."
"That's quite a talent," Tony said. "How did you get into that?"
"I always liked working with wood," John told him. "I just like the way it feels and smells. When our friends started having kids I started making them toys for their birthdays, and then I made it into a business." He paused and looked at them seriously. "You know, people pay premium prices for one-of-a-kind stuff these days. Especially where we're from."
"Which is where?"
"South Carolina."
"You're a Gamecock?"
Ziva almost choked on her water. "Tom!" she admonished, thinking he was insulting John or being dirty. But Tony smiled at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"College basketball, sweetcheeks," he told her, and hugged her close enough to kiss her temple.
John and Martin laughed, and Ziva looked like she was going to dig her elbow into Tony's thigh.
"My heart belongs to the Wolverines, actually," John said.
Tony grabbed his chest dramatically. "No. You're kidding me."
John looked at him askew. "Don't tell me…"
"Buckeye," Tony confirmed.
Martin laughed and thumped the table with his hand. "And I was so looking forward to a nice, civil dinner," he said. "It's such a shame that it can now only end in bloodshed."
"Do you play?" John asked Tony, leaning over the table slightly as he got a little more interested in the new pair.
Tony nodded slowly. "Nowhere near as much as I'd like. But once upon a time."
"There's a court up on the sports deck," John told him, and pointed between them and Martin. "Tomorrow morning, let's get a game going."
"Love to," Tony said quickly, and then caught himself. He looked at Ziva. "Oh. Did we have plans?"
Ziva shook her head as the others laughed. "No, darling. You may bond with the menfolk."
Tony smiled at the others. "You're on."
John tipped his glass at Tony before taking a long sip.
"Well, Zara, if you want to have some fun instead of hanging out by yourself, you should join us tomorrow morning," Sacha said.
"We're just drinking by the pool," Julie told her. "But I promise it'll be more fun than basketball."
Ziva smiled, even if in real life she would turn the invitation down cold. "Thank you. That's very kind."
Tony put his hand on the bare skin of Ziva's back, drawing her gaze. He smiled at her like a loving husband and Ziva smiled back. But her read in her eyes the same thing she probably saw in hers: the game was on.
…
Their dinner companions were several bottle of wine and champagne down by the time dessert was brought to the table. Ziva had gone down the predictably 'healthy' route and ordered fresh fruit with lemon sorbet, while Tony had decided it was worth indulging in the chocolate mud cake with raspberry coulis, tempered chocolate shards, brandy ice cream and whipped cream. When his plate was put in front of him, he caught Ziva eyeing it half with disgust, and half with envy. He pointedly moved his plate an inch away from her. There would be no sharing.
So far over dinner they hadn't learned much of value about their suspects, but Tony supposed the dinner was as much about building rapport and trust as it was about finding evidence to convict the group of a crime. And he thought they were doing a pretty good job of that.
"So, why do you keep cruising?" Ziva asked their companions. "What is it about it that you love so much?"
Tony caught the fleeting, dirty look Sacha shot her husband out of the corner of her eye before turning a big smile on Ziva.
"Well, it's the only time me and Julie get time together," Sacha told them, and then leaned forward and stage whispered, "We bring the fellas along so they feel like we're on vacation together, but it's all a ruse for me and Julie to hang out for a bit."
Tony and Ziva laughed appropriately, and so did John and Martin. But there was definitely tension there. And Tony loved it.
John put his hand on Sacha's back. "We actually met on a cruise though, didn't we, hon?" he said. "So cruises hold a special place in our hearts."
"Oh! Which cruise?" Ziva asked.
"Around Mexico," John said, then nodded at Martin. "Marty invited me along at the last minute when another buddy dropped out. I met Sacha on our second night out there."
"Like fate, huh?" Tony offered.
Sacha smiled, but shared a look with Julie that Tony hoped he would never see cross Ziva's face when she thought of him. Julie jumped in.
"How about you two? How did you meet?"
"Well," Tony and Ziva said together, and then they both stopped abruptly and looked at each other. They hadn't actually come up with a story for that. Tony nodded to Ziva.
"You tell it," he said, threading his fingers though hers.
"I was living in Paris, but came to the US to visit my friend Jenny," Ziva said. Tony felt a pang at the name. "I ran into Tom at a gathering of mutual friends, and we spent a rainy evening sharing a bit more of ourselves than either of us probably intended to over pizza and coffee."
Tony couldn't help breaking into a smile at her careful retelling of events. It was close to the truth. Sort of. "She stole a slice of my pizza, actually," he told them. "Really good pizza, too."
Ziva rolled her eyes. "Well, I am so terribly sorry about that," she said without bite. "I did bring you a coffee in return." She looked at the others with a smile, but then turned a more honest, Ziva-ish one on him. "I did not know exactly how I felt about him that night, but he certainly left an impression. I left wanting to talk to him again."
Tony raised his eyebrows, wondering if that was true. "That's how everyone feels when they meet me," he said. "And you certainly left an impression yourself."
Ziva smiled and turned her attention back to the others again. "Anyway. I went back to Paris again for a few weeks, but then things changed abruptly and I had to come back to the US to live. We met up again, and…I suppose we have not really left each others' sides since."
Tony laughed knowingly. Yeah, that was the truth.
"Another story of fate," Sacha said, resting her chin on her hand and smiling.
"I do not know about fate," Ziva told her, and smiled at Tony. "But I do feel lucky."
He smiled back, still not sure if it was Ziva or Zara talking, or a combination of the two. He brought their entwined hands up to his mouth and brushed a kiss along the back of her knuckles.
"That's sweet," Julie said. "You know, if it's your anniversary you should renew your vows."
Tony lifted his eyebrows at the left-of-field comment. "What's that?" he asked.
"Oh, that'd be fun!" Sacha said. "To do it at sea. Or on one of the islands. People do it all the time on these cruises. They've got a whole business built around it and they work with people on shore. You should talk to the concierge."
"Her name's Isabelle," Julie continued. "We can take you to talk to her tomorrow. We know her really well and I'm sure we'll be able to get you a great deal."
Before Tony could panic any further, Ziva shut the suggestion down in the most polite way possible.
"You know, the wedding is still so fresh in our minds," she said, and then looked at Tony. "I do not know if renewals are really our thing, are they?"
Tony shook his head. "Not really. My dad used to renew his vows just about every time he reconciled with one of his wives after a huge fight that left them temporarily separated. I get why normal people do it, but I'm personally kind of sour to it."
Ziva jumped in again to back up his lie. "After his renewals earlier this year with Susan and how that all turned out—"
"Divorced three months later," Tony told the others.
"I am not sure I am so keen on them either," Ziva finished.
Tony shrugged at the others. "He's a cad."
Ziva quickly moved the conversation along. "We are interested in hearing about activities on the islands, though. Particularly in Samaná. We had a friend who passed through there on a cruise a few years back and he couldn't stop talking about it."
"Yeah, we're really looking forward to that one," Tony agreed. "He said he picked up some pretty unusual items from some of the local stores."
Even if Tony hadn't been looking for it, he would have noticed the way that all four of their dining companions momentarily dropped their eyes to the table before continuing on as normal.
"Samaná's beautiful," Sacha said. "Do you like being active? You look like you do, Zara. The cruise offers lots of shore excursions like hikes and scuba diving and riding ATVs. Or there's this gorgeous little rollercoaster thing you can ride, or paddleboarding."
"Oh, and there's a beautiful drive you can go on that's over the water and through the middle of mountains," Julie added. "Stunning."
"Well, what do you do when you're there?" Tony asked.
Again, eyes shifted to the table and around at each other while smiles stayed firmly in place.
"We have friends there," John said.
When no one offered anything else, Tony said, "Oh, they live in Samaná?"
Again, John was the one who responded. "Yeah. We just spend our time catching up with them."
"Are they originally from the Dominican Republic?' Ziva asked. "Or just lucky enough to settle there later in life?"
"They're from the States," John said. "I guess the lifestyle appealed." He gave them a tight smile that, coupled with his clipped tone, told them that he wasn't interested in saying more. Tony was going to keep up with the questions anyway, but Julie cut in and changed the subject.
"What about the other islands?" she asked. "St Croix is a favorite of mine. And Haiti. I mean I usually just lie on the beach or swim, but on our last trip Sacha and I went jet skiing." She looked at her friend. "Remember that, Sash? We were cruising out to sea like action heroes, and then you did that quick turn and I went flying through the air!"
As the two of them continued to laugh and share stories of their previous trips, Tony and Ziva nodded and laughed along. At some point, once their dessert plates were cleared, John and Martin got into their own private discussion that Tony couldn't hear. They seemed happier to be talking to each other than they had been all night, and as they and their wives drank more and more and got messier and messier, Tony and Ziva nodded to one another in mutual agreement to call it a night. They were the sober people at the party now, and not only was it no longer any fun, but they weren't going to get anything else of value out of either couple. At 11 pm they reconfirmed their plans to catch up again tomorrow, and then said goodnight to their new friends. Tony had no doubt that all four of them would party on well into the night.
…
By the end of the night, all Tony wanted to do was take off his suit, get into bed and sleep off the pain in his overly full stomach. But first, they had to debrief. He sat on the end of the bed and dropped his tired head into his hands.
"Okay," he said as Ziva moved around him. "I'm not a hundred per cent sure that I know what happened out there tonight." He looked up at Ziva as she pulled a piece of clothing out of the cupboard. "First of all, the men barely speak."
"You spoke," Ziva said, smiling at him over her shoulder.
"And you didn't," he countered. "Not much. We're the opposite of all them."
"Yes."
"And those women talked a lot about themselves," he went on. "Which, in my past experience with drug dealers, is unusual."
"I thought so," Ziva agreed, and then walked into the bathroom. She left the door open, so Tony took that as an invitation to keep talking.
"What they didn't say in so many words was that they both hate their husbands," he called to her. He toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks, and then got up to get his pajama pants out of the cupboard.
"Hate is a strong word," Ziva replied. "But there does appear to be fractures in both relationships."
Tony hung up his suit jacket and took off his shirt. "I think that's where we should focus our efforts."
"I agree. I will try to find out more about that tomorrow while we sit by the pool and drink cocktails." She didn't sound as though she was looking forward to the get together, and Tony had to smile. Ziva wasn't good at sitting still during an investigation.
"Wear sunscreen," he reminded her. He took off his suit pants and stepped into his pajamas, and made a half-hearted effort to hang up the rest of his discarded clothes before going back to bed and stretching out on top of the covers.
Ziva stepped out of the bathroom in a bright blue tank top and grey shorts, and all her make up from earlier had been removed. Tony smiled, but it stalled on his lips when she stood at the end of the bed with her hand on her hip.
"And what the hell is a babymoon?"
His grin widened. "It's like a honeymoon. Except instead of having it after a wedding, you have it before the baby arrives and your lives together change into something unrecognizable."
Ziva gave him one of her more typical frowns. "And this is supposed to be romantic?"
Tony bent an arm back behind his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had one."
She smirked at the comment. "Good to know." She took a step back to the bathroom to snap off the light and crossed back over to the bed. "It is a made up thing, yes?"
"I suppose. Aren't honeymoons made up things?"
"You have a point." She stepped towards the lounge area before stopping and turning back to him. She put her hand on her stomach and then pointed to him as if she was lecturing him. "I do not look pregnant."
Tony shook his head quickly. "Not even a little bit," he replied automatically. "It was the drinking water instead of champagne thing, Ziva. You just threw her off."
Ziva nodded, satisfied, and moved into the living area. When she returned she was carrying their laptop. Tony groaned to himself. More work. He knew it was coming and she was right to make them do it now. He just wished they could do it in his sleep.
"All right, let's do this quick. Dot points only," Tony said, and then started to dictate. "Food's amazing. Room's great. They left us towels folded into little elephants, which was cool."
"Tony," Ziva admonished lightly. "I really think we should lead with the waterslide that bends over the side of the ship."
He grinned at her playing along. She sat down on the mattress, crossed her legs and rested the laptop on the mattress in front of her. Tony turned on his side towards her so he could see the screen.
"Sacha and Julie hate their husbands," he said. "Their husbands know this, but I get the impression that John is the only one who cares."
"Martin was certainly indifferent," Ziva said as she typed. "John at least attempted to show affection to Sacha. I did not see any such attempt between Martin and Julie."
"They have friends in Samaná," Tony said, moving on. He waited for her to type that, but she was still on the first dot point. "Dot points are supposed to be brief, Ziva."
"But investigating is supposed to be thorough, Tony," she returned.
He pressed his lips together and waited patiently for her to finish her point and move on. "They have friends—" he started to repeat, but she cut him off.
"Got it," she said. "Americans."
"I wonder if they are another husband and wife team who hate each other," Tony said.
Ziva shrugged a shoulder. "Marriage seems to make all these people angry," she said. "Or perhaps it is being involved in drug smuggling. Illegal activity is stressful."
Tony nodded in agreement. So was policing illegal activity. "What else? We've got dates tomorrow. That should be fun."
Ziva snorted. "That remains to be seen." She glanced at him as she typed. "You know, I think we did very well to be asked to join them."
"Tom and Zara are very likeable," Tony said. "Nice work on the meeting story. I can't believe we didn't think of that."
A small smile pulled at her lips, but she kept her eyes on the screen. "Close enough to the truth is the best lie."
"So you really did want to talk to me again after that night in the rain?" he flirted.
"Of course," Ziva replied easily. "You had gathered information about what I was doing. I needed to know how much you knew."
Tony rolled his eyes, because that was a completely predictable response from her. And he didn't take the slightest bit of offence. "You're a hell of a romantic, Ziva."
She gave him a wink, then finished typing her notes. She hit send on the email to McGee, Gibbs and Borin, then shut the computer down and took it back into the safe in the living area. On her way back she flipped off the lights, leaving on the lamps over the bed on. Tony stayed on top of the covers as she pulled back her side and climbed in.
"I meant to say, I was so sorry to hear of your father's divorce from Susan," she said.
Tony laughed at the lie they'd spun. "I know. I thought she was the one. But I'm sure he'll be over it by Christmas and will have moved on to someone else."
She smiled. "So, tomorrow. I think I will press Sacha and Julie on their marital problems. If they are angry, it will be easier to get them to say something they should not."
Tony nodded. "Yeah, agreed. And I'll try to get a name for their American friend in Samaná." He eyed her. "You'd better hope your friends don't drink through the day like they did through tonight."
"If they are drunk, that will loosen their lips even more," Ziva pointed out. She sighed. "I have a feeling that once this cruise is over, I will need many, many cocktails to get over it."
Tony grinned at the prospect. "Ziva, I am definitely going to hold you to that."
Yeah. They're finally on the cruise. Give yourself a pat on the back if you made it this far.