Federal Pageantry

Chapter Three

"No. No. No." Ziva said, shaking her head vigorously.
"C'mon Ziver," Gibbs said, smirking. Tony mouth twisted, desperately trying not to laugh.
Ziva's mouth opened and closed like a fish; she was running out of excuses. There was no way she was putting on some heavy dress and listening to some coach teach her how to walk and talk like a freaking princess.
"You are going in as Maryland, and that's an order." Gibbs said, still smirking.
She heaved a sigh and decided to glare at Tony instead. He was grinning stupidly and she was losing her patience. But, like usual, she let her mouth curve into a coy smile and in a low voice she said, "I hope you are happy."
Tony's eyes glimmered. "Oh, believe me, Ziva, this is going to be so awesome."
***
The next few days, Ziva spent with NCIS' treasurer, discussing options. Apparently these pageants were nothing short of expensive as hell, and after searching Gianna's complex--if you could even call it a complex, it was more like a giant 25-room farmhouse with a rock-lined pool and a complimentary windmill--there was no sign of the dresses that Gianna was supposed to wear for the pageant, which suggested that maybe she never meant to be in the pageant at all. They also discussed publicity; Ziva's pageant coach would be arriving tomorrow, and in order to make her cover complete, she and her coach were going to have to appear on E¡ so that they public wouldn't be suspicious of the sudden change in contestants. Gianna's family was also given a cover story so that they would suspect any foul play for the time being. Ziva did not like lying to Gianna's family about what really happened to their daughter, but for right now, as far as the press is concerned, Gianna was fatally wounded in a car accident.
The next day, Gibbs called her in so that she could spend time in fittings for her pageant dresses. She didn't actually mind the fittings, it brought her back to her ballet days where she would be fitted for costumes all the time. Maybe this won't be so bad. She thought, as she walked out of the elevator and onto the ground floor of the NCIS building. She had been here countless other times, for the other ops she had performed in the past year. This was where they planned her wardrobes for the different people she would be impersonating.
"Ziva!" Abby cried out as soon as the elevator doors were opened. The goth was standing with Sarah Daniels, Ziva's personal "designer" and waving her arms in her usual hyper activity. They both were very excited to get Ziva all dressed up. This was literally NCIS' very own fashion department. "How are you? OMG, you look so good." Sarah held Ziva at arms length, a finger resting against her thin lips. Sarah had joined NCIS a few years before Ziva, having been recruited for her special talent of makeup transformations. She had a black nose ring in her left nostril, and her used-to-be-blond hair was now a bright fuchsia. This department was one of the few places where you did not have a dress code. Tony called Sarah Ziva's personal "Capital stylist," whatever that meant.
"Oh, Ziva! We've picked some of the best dresses." Abby exclaimed, weaving her way through desks piled high with fabric, trying to get to the back room. Sarah was close on her heels.
"Miss Scuito has been just the greatest!" Sarah said, smiling warmly at Abby.
"Oh, alright, sounds great," Ziva said awkwardly, trying hard not to stare at a deformed tattoo on some guy's arm.
"Now, you know that you need to be playing a prissy, famous, rich girl," Sarah said, reaching the back room. She pulled the door open and led Ziva inside.
Ziva laughed, "Oh, yes, something I do not have a whole lot of experience in, but I will make do. The only thing I'm not sure I am ready for are the heels." Abby giggled and Sarah nodded. The back room was one of the few rooms that wasn't painted the shocking orange of the squad room. It was a cool blue, with black marble floors. One wall held a series of black curtains which were probably dressing rooms, another a couple mirrors, and another a large desk. The best part was the four mannequins that stood in the middle of the room, each sporting a beautiful dress, unique in its own way. The first was a soft pink, the second was a light blue, the third was a dark green, and the fourth a flowing white. They were beautiful but expensive.
"Wow..." Ziva said slowly, wondering just how much NCIS was willing to pay for this op.
"Right?" Abby exclaimed, twitching the way she does when she's excited. "Gibbs told me to check to make sure they all fit, because you're going to need all of them for this op." Ziva coughed.
"A-all of them?" She spluttered. "How long is this thing?"
"A week," Abby said, in a simpering tone. She knew how much Ziva hated flamboyant dresses. "But, on the bright side, you won't be wearing a dress on the third night."
"I won't?"
"Nope, that's the bathing suit portion of the competition."
Oh God. The director and the entire team would be watching this op through a hidden camera that patches through to MTAC; this meant they were going to watch her walk around in a bathing suit.
"Please tell me it is a one piece," Ziva hoped, squeezing her eyes shut as though praying might help. She was never one to be self-conscious about her body, but why do women parade around in bathing suits on a stage? It just isn't logical.
Abby's mouth twisted painfully to the side, as though chewing on some bad news. "It's a two piece,"
Ziva rubbed her temples. Abby took the soft pink gown that Sarah had been pulling off the mannequin and pushed a disgruntled Ziva into one of the dressing rooms.
The dresses each fit perfectly and seemed to look perfect as well. Every time Ziva walked out from behind the dressing room curtain, Abby would squeal in delight. "Ziva, you should have joined a pageant as yourself." Abby clapped her hands excitedly. Ziva laughed. There was no way in hell she was going to do this again. She was doing this for NCIS and nothing else.