What if… Tony and Ziva had needed to remain undercover? What if NCIS and FBI could not back them up and they had needed to truly be Jean-Paul and Sophie Ranier?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the NCIS characters.

Prologue

"So you won't kill us?" Ziva asked slowly, trying to stall on her way out of the hotel room.

"I don't know," the man replied. "I haven't decided yet."

Ziva, with one last frightened glance at Tony, opened the door and walked down the hall.

She stopped a little ways back from the door. "I…" she said. "I destroyed the disk," she said.

"Did you?" he asked, slamming her against the wall. "Why? Why would you destroy it?"

"Because I knew that we would never be left alone while it was still accessible!" Ziva spat. "I do not want my child to live in constant threat of death!"

The man stared at her a moment. Then he began to laugh, releasing her. "That was smart, Mrs Ranier. Very smart. Maybe I won't kill you after all."

"Damn it, McGee, where are they?" Gibbs demanded, pacing back and forth in the suite.

"I-I-I-I don't know, boss," McGee replied, propping himself up on his elbows. "Should I go –"

"Well, no, McGee, you'll blow their cover," Gibbs said, just as Fornell came out from the washroom.

"Stand down, Gibbs. My agents just spotted them leaving with Siazon. Looks like DiNozzo took a few blows to the face, but otherwise both are unharmed. Do I tell my men to follow them, Gibbs?"

"Follow them, but discreetly," Gibbs ordered. "I don't want Siazon having any reason to harm them."

"Are you certain you're all right?" Ziva asked worriedly, dabbing gently at Tony's split lip. She was careful not to turn her back on their quasi-captor. "That looks like it hurts…"

"Oh, only a little," Tony said with false bravado, one arm sliding around her waist to hold her steady as she knelt on the seat.

"I find out that you two are lying to me, and it will hurt a lot more, Mr Ranier," the assassin said coolly. "The driver will let you off at the airport. You may catch your flight to Gilead. But I will be watching you. And if I see any hint of a suspicion that you are not being truthful… You will not be living the normal life. You will not be living at all."

Ziva gave him a curt nod, returning her attention to Tony. "Ooh, I think you'll need stitches, my love," she murmured.

"Really?" Tony asked pitifully.

"What are we doing?" Tony hissed to Ziva as they advanced through the security checkpoint. "We don't know what we're doing!"

"We are playing it by ear," Ziva muttered. "We are going to have to trust that NCIS and the FBI are following us." They paused at the gate to the airplane.

"And if they're not, Ziva?"

Ziva sighed. "Then we remain undercover until they find us again."

"There are more than a few slight problems with that theory," Tony muttered back as they boarded.

"I know, but it is our only option."

"It's… cute," Tony said thoughtfully as the taxi let them off in front of 198 Hanover Crescent. "In a cliché-American-white-picket-fence way."

Ziva examined the house. "It will do," she announced, her arm looped through Tony's. "Come. Let's see what Jean-Paul and Sophie left us, yes?"

"Excellent, it's furnished," Tony commented as he closed the front door behind them. "This is good…"

"McGee said that the phone and cable were due to be turned on next week," Ziva continued, brushing her fingertips against the railing rods of the front hall. "We will have to go and see if we can arrange to have it connected sooner. We will need copies of the spare key we used to get in…"

"DVD and Blu-Ray… high-def LCD tv… man, that's gotta be a good 50-inch…"

"We will need to figure out what Jean-Paul and Sophie were planning on doing here…"

"Surround sound!…" Tony began to walk towards the hallway, pushing open the first door to find an office already set up with bookshelves, two desks and two computers. "Cool computers…" He closed the door again and went to the next.

"… Tony, are you even listening to me?" Ziva asked as she came up behind him. Then she fell silent as she realized what they were looking at.

The room was cream with minty-green trim and paneling. Toys, a crib and a changing table, a bureau were all set up around the room.

"Damn it," she muttered, pulling a hand through her hair.

"You had to tell them."

"Damn it."