"Pack your bags, guys; you're going to the IITC!" Catherine exclaimed. Nick and Sara sat in her office reading over the informational brochures they were given on this year's International Interrogation Techniques Conference in Ontario, Canada. "You'll leave June seventeenth, and will stay for five days. You will be staying at the Hilton, room 161. Any questions?"
_

Gibbs and his team were lined up in front of Vance's desk. Ziva looked up from the glossy brochure, "Must I go to this?"

"Yes," was Vance's short answer. He looked to a fuming Gibbs, "It's mandatory for all investigative units to send a delegate. Ziva and Tony were the names picked from the hat." He turned back to the agents, "Plane leaves tomorrow at noon." At Ziva's glare, he added, "Be there or find another job."
_

"Do we need a cart?" questioned Nick.

Sara sighed, "We've got two bags. I don't think we'll need one." As she explained her logic her bag came around the corner. She picked it up and waited for Nick to get his. Just as he bent to grab his bag a loud crash could be heard from somewhere in the airport followed by what sounded like an angry foreigner. Then, in the same voice, someone shouted, "Damn it! That was my knife collection!"

Sara looked up and let out a small chuckle. "How'd she manage to get those through security?"
_

Once Tony was done flirting with the flight attendant, him and Ziva went to baggage claim. She spotted her hard black suitcase just as a gawky teenager in a uniform dropped it. "You idiot!" she yelled, then cursed in Israeli, followed by the English translation, "Damn it! That was my knife collection!"

Tony was worried for a moment for the young boy's fate before Ziva snatched her case from him, picked up her other bag, and marched her way out the door. He almost smiled and handed the boy a twenty dollar bill.

The boy looked at him regretfully, "I can't take it sir, against pol-."

Tony held up a hand, "Really, just keep it."

"But… But it's American," he pointed out obviously.

The agent gave him a look, "You have money here don't you?"

"Well yeah, but-."

"Keep it."
_

Sara scowled at the cheerful concierge. "Welcome to the Hilton," she smiled, "Mr. Stokes and Miss Sidle." Another smile. "Please make use of any and all accommodations available to you. Enjoy your stay!" The bellhop loaded their suitcases onto a cart and pushed it towards the service elevator while the pair went the other way, to the guest elevator.

Two floors, a hallway, and four doors later they entered their suite. Looking around, Nick smirked. "Look at this view! You can almost see the falls from here."

They claimed their beds, freshened up, and got a shuttle to the opening seminar of the conference.
_

Tony and Ziva entered the brightly decorated lobby and were greeted by a vibrantly dressed receptionist. Instantly, Ziva assessed her environment and noticed a well-dressed couple enter the elevator. The woman was a little over average height, with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. The man was well built with short brown hair and brown eyes also.

"Here's your key. Enjoy," the check in lady instructed after giving the classic welcome spiel.

Ziva hadn't stopped mumbling about the unfairness of having to attend the International Interrogation Techniques Conference when she clearly knew how to successfully interrogate someone. Only when they unlocked their room to see a breathtaking view did she stop her rant.

Tony, of course, was only concerned with the sleeping arrangements. "I call this one!"

"Whatever Tony." She took her gaze off the mists coming from the Falls. "Hurry up, we have to be at the conference in an hour."

"Yes mother," he grumbled and headed to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later they were walking down the streets of Canada heading to the Marriott Conference Room.
_

"…and please help yourself to the refreshments at the back of the room. Thank you for joining us at the IITC," instructed Special Agent Justine, one of the seminar leaders. The second speaker, whose nametag read 'Special Agent Val', began reviewing the day's itinerary. "You'll be assigned groups and given a schedule for the week. First group will be Detectives Smith, Stevens, Weaver…"

Sara zoned out until she heard, "Group number fourteen will be Sidle, Stokes, DiNozzo, David, Xing, and Chang. Report to table number four to receive your information." She stood along with Nick, stretched, and shuffled towards the designated table. One man had already arrived and seemed to be engaging the woman behind the table in conversation.

"Are you a parking ticket? 'Cause you've got 'fine' written all over you." The man, a tall brunette, wagged his eyebrows. He stopped his awful flirting when a dark-haired woman sharply slapped the back of his head. Her name tag read 'Ziva David', and his 'Anthony DiNozzo'; they were part of Sara and Nick's group. Tony glared at Ziva before grabbing a stack of papers from the woman behind the table with a charming smile. That seemed to be the first time they saw the CSI pair.

"Hello," Tony immediately zeroed in on Sara, "you must be Miss Sidle," he said, as if her name tag didn't clearly state that.

"Forgive him," Ziva butted in before either of the pair could comment, "he's attracted to women like flies are to vinegar."

"She means honey," her partner corrected.

Nick flashed a Texan smile and shook Tony's hand firmly. "Nicholas Stokes, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

Sara smiled and nodded politely before collecting her papers. She turned back to the group, "Sara, Las Vegas Crime Lab. "

Ziva took Nick's outstretched hand, "Special Agent Ziva David, NCIS."

Tony turned around, searching the crowd, "Aren't there some Chinese investigators somewhere?"

The woman behind the desk spoke up for the first time, "Agent Xing and Detective Chang are on a delayed flight. They won't be making it today."

Ziva looked up from her schedule, "We have to be in the State Room in five minutes."

The group gave a collective nod and followed a wall plaque with an arrow pointing down a hallway to the State Room. They arrived and found their seats. The first seminar was on how to successfully detect a lie during interrogation. By the end of the first hour, Nick and Tony had already made their reading material into paper planes, had them taken away, and were busy searching for other sources of entertainment.

Tony leaned towards Nick, "So what's Sara like?"

"She's… complex," he gave a helpless shrug. "What about Ziva?"

Tony tilted his head in thought, "She's, well she's Ziva."

"Meaning?"

DiNozzo looked towards his partner, expecting to see a warning look. Instead she was avidly watching a video of the interrogation of Bin Laden's second in command. He turned back to Nick, "Pig-headed, homicidal, ninja-ish, and strangely fascinating."

"That's… well that's nice." A second later, "Was she always your partner?"

"She was Mossad, I met her four years ago." A moment of silence passed, "Do you have any other partners back in Vegas?"

Nick nodded, "Yeah, three, Catherine Willows, Greg Sanders, and Ray Langston. You?"

"Probie… I mean, Timothy McGee, my boss, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and then our forensic analyst, Abby Scuito," Tony answered.

The video had come to an end and the attendees were dismissed. Nick stood up and stretched his arms above his head, "If we're going to be seeing each other for the next week, we might as well get to know each other."

Ziva smiled in agreement, "What about that bar we passed, the one on the corner of Maple Avenue and Main Street."

Tony nodded and looked at Nick and Sara, "We'll take you there."

Sara smirked, "I haven't had a drink in a while," and then she seemed to laugh at some private joke.

And with one last flirty comment towards one of the conference workers, Tony followed the party out the Marriott doors.


Authors Note: So this is our first joint story (Fox_rox1539 and Riley61). Be sure to check out our profile and look for more stories (including the second chapter to this one)... that is if we don't kill each other first. Also, you can send your appreciation- or lack thereof- in the form of Mountain Dew.

Thank you,
Us.