A/N: So…while I'm not new to fan fiction and generally writing like a maniac, I am new to the fandom of NCIS. I found the show over this past summer and I'm utterly addicted.

Thus far, I've been wary of foraying into the NCIS world in fan fic, because the characters are so lovely that it would be a crime to mangle them, but Tony/Ziva (Tiva, I believe it's called?) is just too tempting to explore. Plus, with all the unbearable tension (particularly in this recent episode, "Dead Air," with the recurring themes from "Under Covers") I couldn't help myself.

I don't expect you to lie when you review this one – i.e. telling me it's good when in actuality you don't believe it is good enough to manure your lawn – but I do want you to know that this is my first time writing for NCIS and tips on how to improve are preferred to spitting fire at my mistakes.

Cheers and enjoy!
(And review.)

I. Operation Miami Candy

Ziva: If – and when – you meet my friend – and I emphasize 'if' – what will you say?
Tony: Be careful. Handle with care. Contents – priceless.

Part I: The Inception

Ziva's computer is mocking him.

It must be. It sits there, gray and cool and purring serenely in the quiet of the office, smug with the knowledge of all the intimate secrets it is entrusted with.

If that is not mockery at its cruelest, he doesn't know what could be.

Today is one of those mornings in which, by some miracle, Tony is in the office, adorned with coffee breath and donut shavings on his jacket, before everybody else. He has checked his phone messages (none) and his e-mail (there were several amusing forwards but nothing of real consequence) and he has not put off any paperwork.

Everything is done and he has a few minutes yet to kill before McGee, Ziva and Gibbs will make an appearance. So he chooses to stare irritably at Ziva's computer.

If only McGee would use his powers for good; instead of helping Tony hack into her computer – more specifically, her e-mail account – he has allied with the enemy and instead installed a security camera that will catch intruders in the act. And he installed it because Ziva specifically wanted to keep Tony out of her files, believing him (quite correctly) to be the biggest threat to her personal security. Now there is no way to know what's really going on with her Mr. Miami Candy.

He glowers once again at the computer. He is determined not to let it win. He will hack into that computer and he will find out about Mr. Miami Candy; it's only a matter of time. He will figure out a way, with or without McGee. He is an investigator after all; this is what he's paid to do.

Triumphant in this latest thought, Tony pulls out a piece of paper from the desk and begins fervently to write. Unhelpfully, Ziva chooses this particular moment to saunter into the office, take one look at him, and snort loudly.

"Early and working," she remarks. "What, is this some kind of midnight zone I should be concerned about?"

"Twilight zone," he corrects in a slight growl, brows furrowed over the paper. He spares her smirking expression only a brief glance before returning to his list.

"Whatever." She laughs an easy laugh and settles into her seat, warming up her computer to check her e-mails.

And he can only focus on the list of ways in which to accomplish Operation Miami Candy.

Part II: The Appeal

Obviously, to accomplish the task at hand, Tony would need someone savvy with technology. Since McGee is currently out of the question, there is only one person he can think of that would be good enough to break into a sophisticated personal security system:

Abby Sciuto.

Gibbs, in his usual fashion, had slammed them with another case this morning and evidence from the scene has yet to be processed. Particularly benevolent, Tony offers to bring it down to her and is left to do so. He obliges with pleasure.

Abby's lab – frigid, black and emanating sound waves from the rhythm of the heavy bass drums she is listening to – is as bustling and busy as ever when Tony arrives with the evidence boxes. She is standing at her computer, typing something; and when he enters, she turns around and smiles.

"Hey, Tony!"

Her exuberance is infectious; he grins as she relieves him of his load and adds her own, squeezing him into one of her bone-crushing hugs.

"Hey, Abby," he says. "There's the evidence for you."

"Thank you," she says graciously, peering with interest into the maze of plastic bags and colored labels. "I will let you know when I've got something."

"Great."

Though she obviously expects him to leave her in peace with the evidence, he loiters by the door, hesitant to leave.

She notices.

"Yes, Tony?" Her nose wrinkles with curiosity and her hands go to her hips.

"I was…wondering if you could do me a favor," he says delicately.

"Of course! What's up?" she responds as he knew she would.

"I need you to break a code for me."

"My favorite." Her smile is mischievous as she cracks her knuckles. "Which one? Where is it? Let me at it."

"It's…on Ziva's computer," says Tony. He is sure to keep it slow: Abby has her own code of conduct and he can never be confident that he is not encroaching on one of her list of things never to do. She and Ziva are good friends; she may be deeply unwilling to break Ziva's trust. Or she may see Tony's desperation and condescend to help him.

With Abby, he can never know; but judging by the suspicious purse of her mouth as she digests this statement, he can guess this won't end well.

"Which code?" she repeats.

"Actually, it's kind of a funny story." Tony tries his best to smile, but even he knows that it comes off weak and a little forced. "See, McGee – goofball that he is – installed this insane security system onto Ziva's computer and now I can't get in – and there's this thing in her e-mail I have to check out for her and I need you to do that typing thing where you get past the firewall and—"

"No! Absolutely not! I would never dream of using my hacking skills to do that to Ziva!" she flares up at once, giving him a head-smack so astonishingly like Gibbs' in intensity, making his vision pop and go white for a moment. Tony shakes his head like a punch-drunk dog and tries to recover from both pain and shock alike as Abby's full wrath unfolds before him.

"How could you possibly ask something like that of me, Tony, I mean, really?" she thunders, hot and indignant, pacing furiously about the lab. "You are one of my best friends and you want me to go behind one of my other best friend's back to help you spy, or cheat, or—or—what do you want with Ziva's computer and e-mail anyway?"

She breaks the anxious spiel for a moment to whirl around and face him straight on, eyes wide. Perhaps he is still unsteady from the vicious head-smack, but he is caught perplexed by this.

"Ummm…it's personal?"

Of course that doesn't fly. Abby appears tempted to head-smack him again but mercifully refrains.

"Seriously, Dinozzo, if you want my help, I need to know why," she says. "If it's like what happened with Rivkin and you have legitimate suspicions, I wanna know about them. Now."

He considers briefly what version of the truth to give her, but ultimately decides on none of them. He subsides and shakes his head.

"It's nothing like that this time," he says somewhat gravely. "Never mind. I'm sorry I asked."

And with this statement, he exits the lab with murky eyes, leaving Abby there to wonder in his wake.

Part III: The Wheedling

For once, Tony is so glad that he knows Hannah DeCarlo.

He met her once outside of work and she immediately seemed quite taken with him; they had coffee and tough he thought he made it perfectly clear that he wanted little else to do with her after that, she kept sending friendly e-mails and text messages, apparently oblivious.

But now, she is quite possibly the most valuable person he knows.

Taking greater care than usual to fluff his hair, Tony saunters up to the techie section of the building where Hannah works and charms a couple of hapless interns into showing him where Hannah's office is. Hannah sits there, complete with neat skirt and matching headband, typing something on the computer. Her open valentine of a face turns a bright, blotchy red when she figures out the identity of her visitor.

"Oh, hey, Tony," she blusters. The combination of nerves and a naturally high, thin voice makes her sound starved for breath. "What's up?"

"Hey there, Hannah Banana," he says, his voice particularly deep and throaty when contrasted with hers. "Working hard?"

"Yeah…" Her eyes dart between her computer and his face. "But, you know, a short break wouldn't kill me. It's great to see you. You never come up here."

He feigns a regretful sigh. "I know," he says. "Work is just so busy."

"I understand…" Her ears are infection-red; she bites her lip. "But hey, you're here now. Do you want to go get some coffee or something?"

"I'm actually a little tied up – only have a few minutes here," he explains hastily. "But we could go later this week. Right now, I have a favor to ask."

"Sure," she breathes. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could give me the passwords to Ziva David's computer and e-mail accounts?" He now pulls on a concerned face. "See, she lost it this morning and can't remember either of them for the life of her. She's so flustered, poor thing, and I told her I could get them real fast from you, hassle-free, and we can all put this behind us. Do you mind? She's just so upset and she's waiting for me downstairs."

"That's so sweet of you!" Hannah's face lights up like a Christmas tree with delight, thrilled with this open display of touching affection for his co-worker. "Well…as you know, we are not generally allowed to look up passwords for our employees – it's personal information – but I suppose…"

"I don't want to put you in any awkward positions here," he says quickly, his earnestness almost killing them both. "If you can't help us, it's fine, I can ask around elsewhere…"

"No, no," Hannah says at once. "I can make an exception here; you only want to help your friend. It can be our little secret."

Her face still shines and he feels horribly guilty – he knows he does – but he lets her type in Ziva's name with almost childish gusto. After a moment, Hannah arrives at a screen full of writing with Ziva's picture on it and scribbles something on a Pink Post-It.

"There," she says, holding it out to him proudly. "Now tell her not to lose this one."

"Thanks, Hannah." Tony smiles as understandingly as he can muster. "Thanks so much. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Bye, Tony!" She waves sweetly after him.

He smiles back but bolts back to Ziva's desk like something bit him. Thankfully, she and McGee are out exploring the victim's workplace while Gibbs is in M-TAC and he had been left with desk-work (which he had already done). Torn between intense guilt and burning curiosity, he eagerly types in the first password Hannah gave him for the computer.

To his joy, it seems to work. The screen obediently changes. McGee must have had to report the password upstairs, since extra impenetrable programs aren't really allowed at NCIS for security reasons.

Well, all the better for Tony. Now to collect his prize.

Patiently, he waits for the welcome screen to load so that he's into Ziva's account. But to his horror, the computer kicks him back to the original screen, which now reads 'incorrect password.'

Of course! McGee must have installed something that only Ziva could enter before logging into her account so that even if Tony somehow got his hands on the official passwords, he wouldn't get a hold of the new one!

He lets his forehead fall to the keyboard with a groan of despair: all that flirting for nothing.

And of course, Gibbs chooses now to stride and snap, "Hey, Dinozzo, this is no time for a nap. We got the BOLO back on the vehicle; we need to go. Call Ziva and McGee."

And of course, he jumps up and runs to his phone.

Part IV: The Bribery

Abby has forsaken him. Techies with passwords prove to be useless. He never learned how to use a computer so his education has forsaken him.

There is nothing more Tony can think of to do except the impossible.

At first, he resists the idea. No, no, of course he shouldn't do that. It's demeaning. It's humiliating. And frankly, it's unnecessary. An idea will come to him and it will work. It will. And then he will get into Ziva's computer and he will get into her e-mail (which he now has the password for) and he will be able to peruse her conversations with Mr. Miami Candy in peace.

It will work. It must.

But a few hours later, with his brain feeling like pureed mush coming out of his ears from both this failed operation and the confusing case, he realizes with a sinking sensation in his stomach that in actuality, this will not work.

So, hating himself intensely for succumbing this way, he gets out his wallet and prepares himself to do the impossible.

When McGee and Ziva return from the workplace, they come with the victim's boss in cuffs. Gibbs grants Ziva the pleasure of interrogating him and follows her to the observation room. The arrangement couldn't be better: Tony and McGee are now alone in their part of the office.

This maneuver – risky as it is – must be done with the utmost care and precision. It will call upon all the subtlety and discretion Tony has in him. He must be sure to do it right.

McGee sits poised at his desk, immersed in something on the screen, his fingers skittering with purpose around the keyboard. Tony clears his throat delicately to get his attention.

"So, McSmarty-Pants," he says, "what have you got over there?"

"Running checks on Brotanger," says McGee.

"The guy Ziva is interrogating?"

"That's the one," confirms McGee. "We wanted to bring him in for questioning but he resisted, so we had to use the cuffs."

"Sounds exciting. But hey—are you in the market for fifty bucks?"

McGee frowns. "Fifty bucks?"

"Yeah, the one with that one bearded guy on the front."

"Grant?"

Tony grins. "Yeah. Him."

"So…why would I be in the market for fifty bucks?"

"Everyone is in the market for fifty bucks," Tony scoffs. "It's fifty bucks! Free!"

"So why don't you ask everyone? Why ask me?"

"Because you are my McCo-worker," explains Tony. "My McBrother, if you will. You are always the first on my list."

"I'm touched." His voice drips with sarcasm. "Now what do you want?"

"I want Ziva's password," Tony says at once, abandoning all pretence. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it. I need to get into her computer."

McGee's cocky smile is more than a little suspicious. "Really? And why would you need to get into her computer?"

"Because I just do, all right?" Tony insists, deciding not to mention he was hoping for evidence of pictures and/or naughty videos on her computer. "For fifty bucks? The password?"

"Gee, I don't know, Tony," says McGee complacently, leaning back in his seat, surveying his colleague over the top of his computer. "I think it would take a lot more than fifty bucks to get me to break the confidence of a friend."

"Fine, a hundred bucks, and I'll do your paperwork for a week," says Tony in a near-growl. "How's that, McGreedy-Pants?"

"The insults are not appreciated, particularly when you ask such a big favor of me," McGee remarks. "Let's say…one hundred and fifty bucks, paperwork for two weeks and no more jokes about my last name for life."

Tony's eyes go wide with astonishment. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," says McGee. "And you would have to sign a contract."

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust you."

Tony glowers; McGee smirks. The two of them stare each other down for a few still moments, trying to determine where this would go.

McGee's price is steep. A little too steep. The cogs turn in Tony's head and McGee asks, "How much do you want to get into Ziva's computer, Tony?"

Badly, Tony muses. He wants to get in pretty badly. But not this badly.

Straightening up and regaining some of his lost dignity, Tony says, "I do not want to take this deal."

"Suit yourself." Clearly believing otherwise, McGee returns to his work with a prim smile on his face, deciding to humor him. Tony shoots McGee another glare before returning to his own computer.

Needless to say, this did not go well.

Part V: The Resolution

For the rest of the afternoon, Tony works on the case and idly fantasizes about what he might find on Ziva's computer concerning Mr. Miami Candy. However, when he is preparing to leave the office for the evening, Ziva marches up to his desk and gives him a firm slap on the back of his head. Tony – not expecting this – yelps with astonishment.

"Ziva! Geez, what the heck was that for?" He attempts to massage the back of his head.

First Gibbs, now Abby, then Ziva. He isn't going to have any functioning brain cells left by the time he is done with this job.

"That was for trying to bribe McGee to get the password to my computer!" Ziva thunders.

Tony stiffens. "He told you?"

"Yes, he told me!" Ziva says, eyes glinting with menace. "He caught me on the way out of interrogation!"

Silently, he curses himself. He had not made McGee swear to keep this a secret; now he had told Ziva and now his genitals are in deep peril – he would not put it past Ziva to castrate him in his sleep. Guiltily, he swallows.

"Um…yeah," he says. "But, to McGee's credit, he didn't tell me what it was."

Ziva's hands go to her hips. "You could have asked, you know," she says.

"Asked what?"

"Asked whatever you wanted to get off of my computer!" Ziva tells him. "What did you want, anyway?"

He feels himself shrink slightly under the intensity of her gaze.

"Nothing really," he says.

"Well, obviously not, since you were willing to do paperwork and pay McGee," she points out.

"Okay, okay," he says, subsiding. "I wanted to find out about your guy in Miami."

"Still?" Ziva appears genuinely surprised. "But I thought you gave up on that?"

"No," he confesses. "I wanted to check your e-mails and see if you had any pictures."

Ziva's mouth purses – a bad sign. But she doesn't hit him again – a good sign. She considers the situation for another moment before speaking again.

"While your honesty is appreciated, Tony, your snooping is not," she says. "My relationship with him is my business. If I wished to share it with you, I would have done so already."

"Just tell me this – is he better-looking than I am?" asks Tony.

Ziva actually smiles. "I am not at liberty to divulge that."

"So he is!" Tony proclaims dramatically.

Her laugh is soft and somewhat affectionate.

"No, Tony."

"No, he's not better-looking than I am?"

"No, I'm not going to tell you anything about him," she says. "And this is why."

"What is why?"

"This! The questions!" Ziva says. "I don't want to be plagued by questions about what he looks like or how I feel about him or how good he is in bed."

"I would ask those whether or not I knew anything about him," he reminds her.

"Still," she says. "I don't want to talk about it. But it's sweet that you care so much."

"I don't care," he retorts babyishly.

Ziva picks up her bag from her desk, slings it over her shoulder, and gives him a condescending smile. "Of course you don't."

He glowers back at her, but she is strangely cheerful tonight, smiling playfully back at him before strolling towards the elevators. He watches her go, trying to figure out what just happened, but now McGee comes back upstairs and Tony chooses instead to glare at him.

"Nice move, Mc-Smooth," he says, "telling Ziva about our conversation."

McGee nods. "Knew you'd appreciate it."

Tony shoots him one last look before picking up his bag. "I'm heading out. Good night."

"Me too. Good night."

McGee picks up his bag as well and walks out the same way Ziva did. Gibbs is nowhere to be seen. Tony is alone in the office.

Sighing, he slings his bag over his shoulder. He considers leaving right away but can't resist the temptation to go back to Ziva's desk. A few loose sheets of paper with her handwriting on them are scattered across the surface. He casually shuffles them around, since he's already seen them, but then starts.

A scrap of paper that had definitely not been there an hour ago reveals itself in the stack.

It is folded neatly into fourths. He picks it up at once and opens it. On it is one word scrawled large in Ziva's hand.

Admon.

Grinning with reprised victory, Tony reboots Ziva's computer and types this into the password box.

To his joy, the screen changes immediately and asks him to put in his NCIS username and password. It is all he can do not to whoop with excitement.

He pulls the Post-It Hannah had given him and types in the necessary information. The computer logs him in without a hitch.

He is into Ziva's account.

Heart thumping loudly, he flips through the folders on her hard-drive but doesn't find any pictures or videos. Undaunted, he logs into her e-mail. There are no new messages, so he goes into the old ones. She apparently cleared these out as well.

He tries the Saved Mail folder. Here, there is only one message.

Ziva,

I'm so sorry to do this over e-mail; I wish I could call you, but the power is down right now and this needs to be done right away. This whole long-distance relationship thing is not working out. We had a great time in Miami, but with you being where you are, thousands of miles away, I feel like we're going through the motions. Maybe another day.

All my best,

Brian

The date sent informs him that this message was sent yesterday. Tony has to reread this message several times before it sinks in.

Mr. Miami Candy – Brian – broke up with Ziva yesterday, over e-mail, with the vague explanation of the power being down. Obviously he is lying; if he has the power available to e-mail, he should have it to call.

But e-mail! The relationship had lasted several weeks and he chose to end it electronically. What a despicable piece of beach trash. Ziva is better off without him.

Satisfied, however sadly, Tony logs out of Ziva's e-mail and account. But something is bothering him. He will have to resolve it before he goes, or he will go insane. So he decides, as an investment in his sanity, he will resolve it.

He logs into his own computer this time and opens up Google. He types in the word 'admon' and waits for the search results to come up.

When they do, he smiles with such shock and softness that he ought to be grateful none of his co-workers are around to witness it or they would tease him for the rest of his life. Something warm unfolds inside his gut, invades his entire body, and refuses to leave.

Because Admon is the Hebrew translation of the name Anthony.

He steps into the elevator and waits to go down to the parking garage, pondering this development almost to the point of obsession. He is so caught up in his thoughts that his buzzing phone takes him entirely by surprise; he jumps almost a foot in the air before he answers it.

He doesn't check the caller ID, so for one wild moment, he thinks it's Ziva. But then a different voice comes through the speaker.

"Hey, Tony! Are you free tonight? Can you come to the coffee shop on 67th Street and meet me?"

It's Hannah DeCarlo.

Tony groans. The joy of two seconds ago is instantly eradicated.

"Sure," he says flatly, figuring he owes her. "I'll be right there."

"Great!"

"Bye."

The line goes dead.

A/N: Please remember to review on the way out!