A/N: This is a series of one shots based on actual snippets of dialogue on the show. Starts with Jet Lag. It is an experiment for my own amusement and hopefully yours as well, so the POV, style and tense may change depending on how the dialogue moves me. I expect it will be mainly TIVA since they are just so fun to write! I hope you enjoy.

The title is borrowed from Billy Joel's song And So It Goes, but this is not song fic in any way. I just like the song and think it's a good title.

Tag to Jet Lag 7 x 13

Spoilers for Season 7

"Why did you just lie to McGee?"

"Why did you lie to Nora?


He thanks the street vendor in clumsy French, flashes his famous DiNozzo smile, and makes his way back toward the giant iron structure. She senses his presence before he speaks and turns to look at him over her shoulder. His breath catches as the glow of the orange lights dances off of her features.

Two more steps and his chest skims her back. She sighs and leans back slightly, almost, almost resting against him. Extending an arm around her body he says, "One cup of boring tea for Agent David and one cup of café au lots of lait pour moi. You know, Ziva, coffee is a lot stronger here."

He is rewarded with a sly smile, again over her shoulder. She smirks.

"You will need the extra caffeine if you want to keep up with me tonight, Tony."

"Ooh la la, Ziva, what did you have in mind?"

She spins around to face him, grabs the lapel of his coat and drags his head down to hers.

"Tony," she breathes against the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, Ziva?"

He moves to place his lips on hers. She lets him.

For a moment.

Then she whispers, "Did you know that La Tour Eiffel is painted every 7 years?"

She plants her lips on his again for brief kiss, smiles up at him, then grabs his hand.

"Come on, Tony. You said you wanted to see the sights." She tugs him along, but slows her pace to enjoy the heavy weight of his hand clasped within her own. They stroll around the four strong base pillars of the Eiffel Tower, eventually making their way along the Seine.

He swings her hand playfully. She glances up at him with a warm smile. A genuine smile. A loving smile. They are not strangers to intimate acts with each other, but it feels new. Romantic. As if being on a different continent allows for more than mutual comfort and a tumble between the sheets to dull the pain of wounds past. A new start. The beginning of something deeper. Or maybe a continuation of something that had begun but was cruelly shattered by Jenny, by Jeanne, by Michael. By Eli David. By Somalia.

In the beautiful city of Paris, a dark and dirty terrorist training camp does not exist.

Tony tugs on her hand and pulls her body up against his along the brick that protects them from tumbling into the Seine. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he looks at her. Really looks. She does not break the spell and returns his gaze. It is hard to reconcile this Ziva with the Ziva that swaggered into the office and announced that she would be a part of their team. This Ziva has scars that occasionally shine in her eyes when she thinks no one is looking.

In the beautiful city of Paris, a broken Mossad assassin never spent time tied to a chair in Somalia.

Leaning toward her, he kisses her once more. Softly, gently. Carefully. She places a hand on his cheek as she explores his mouth with her own. Tony breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against hers. She kisses the corner of his mouth. He can feel her smile against his face. The beat of his heart echoes through her ear as his arms cocoon her body against his chest.

She kisses his chin and he kisses her head and they present to their fellow travelers a picture of loving bliss.

In the beautiful city of Paris, a father does not send his only remaining child to die in the desert.

The Obelisk of the Place de la Concorde looms ahead and Tony and Ziva laugh as they run toward the fountain, pushing and playing with each other. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, the pair huddles together like new lovers to keep warm in the winter night air. Tony rests his arm across her shoulders and Ziva traces patterns with her fingers along his knee.

Eventually she whispers, "It is two in the morning Tony, we really should get back to the hotel." Neither wants to break the spell cast upon them but duty calls and they must get some sleep.

The couch is never discussed as both take their turn in the bathroom, then both climb into the same bed. Tony is wearing boxers and Ziva is wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top. She rolls to face him, places a soft kiss on his chest before resting her head on his shoulder. He is content to hold her and make no demands.

"Tony," she whispers, suddenly feeling insecure.

"Yeah," he whispers back.

"It is not that I do not want to make love to you, it is just that I-" her voice trails off.

"I know, Ziva."

"I am just not ready."

He kisses her head in response and simply repeats, "I know."

Unfortunately, the beautiful city of Paris can only provide a new back drop, not repaint the original canvas of a damaged but not ruined former Mossad assassin.

It does not matter for he will wait. The trip to Paris has been a gift in disguise.

The next morning finds Tony alone, but happy. She has gone for a run and has left him a note. He does not mind her need to regroup in privacy. He knows that her mask will be back in place when he sees her, but he is fairly confident that he can get her remove it once more. He leaves her a note in return and rents a Vespa for last minute sight seeing since he left his camera in his bag the night before.

A/N So I decided to create a scenario to explain why Tony is acting like he had great sex the next morning at the café and why Ziva looks confused by his behavior and yet it seems as though they did share something. Not to mention, each of them asks the other why they lied but it seems as though they lied through out the entire episode.

Originally, I had Ziva spilling her guts about Somalia while they were in Paris. Good think I didn't get that posted before Masquerade… =) Thanks for reading.