Disclaimer: Yada yada. I do not own NCIS or anything to do with it. I do like to toy with them and take them out Joy Riding tho.

Shipping: Yeah, there is one. But i'ma gonna let you figure it out for yourself. I do realise I'm annoying, and thank you, I'll pass those lovely comments on to Po-Po, my beloved muse. She just loves to hear your thoughts. So drop her a review at the bottom. You know you wanna. Do it. C'mon, you know it's tempting!

... 1 0 S I M P L E S T E P S ...

This has turned into a right mess. It has. How could I have been so careless? It's not supposed to happen like this. Not now. In a year or so, ok, maybe two. But not now. Not like this. It's too……unexpected. Too soon. Too what? Unwanted? Most definitely not. Risky? Maybe. Desired? Very. Alluring? Oh yes! Tempting? More than juicy red ripe strawberries dipped in the finest dark chocolate Germany has to offer. But rational? Perhaps. No! Yes. Maybe, I don't know. I'm just so confused. Maybe even a little scared too. What in hells' name have I gotten myself into? Oh, that's right, a one way ticket up shit creek.

"Kate, babe listen, it can't honestly be that bad can it? You've wanted this for as long as I've known you."

"I know Sian, I know. Just not like this."

"There's only a few select way to do it you know? What were you expecting?"

"I don't know, maybe something a little less complicated would have been nice."

"Less complicated? You know I love you Katie, but you wouldn't know complicated if it hit you over the head."

"Is that you're twisted way of trying to help me?"

"All I'm saying is, he loves you. I've met him remember. He's head over heels for you Kate. He's not going to disown you or anything for this."

"It's been 3 weeks Sian!"

"Doesn't make him love you any less."

Maybe she has a point. I mean, we were put on this earth for a reason right? Not just because our parents were randy buggers who couldn't keep their hands, and other appendages to themselves.

"3 weeks Sian, that's 21 days, that's an odd 504 hours. Oh my God. I'm a slut."

"You're an A grade drama queen, you know that?"

"So you've told me. I just don't know what to do."

"Tell him. That would be the sensible thing to do."

"Easier said than done. It's too risky."

"So what? You're just going to quit your job, skip town, and hope to hell someone doesn't come looking?"

"No, of course not. I couldn't do that."

"Well what then? You know I can't give you the answers Kate. You have to work them out for yourself."

But it's so damned hard! I know I should do the right thing. It's the obviously, the best thing to do. Not the easiest. I kind of gave that luxury away approximately thirty thousand, two hundred and forty hours ago. Why the hell do I know that?

"I'm sorry Sian, I'm just gonna go. You don't need this…."

"HEY! Don't you ever apologize for wanting help. If I were there, I'd slap you so far back into yesterday just for thinking about it. Got it?"

For the first time today I smile. "Got it."

"Good. Now, Kate. Plan of action. What'll it be?"

3 HOURS LATER

I'm insane. This proves it. Never in my entire life did I think I'd be doing this by way of choice. This is so not how it's supposed to go down. It was supposed to be, well, not what it turned out to be.

I'm grateful, of course. Who wouldn't be? Sian was right. I have wanted this. I DO want this. But 3 weeks is an awfully short time to be even remotely contemplating thinking about discussing the issue. Let alone what I'm about to do.

OW! I really should learn not to pinch myself when my nails are this long. I think I drew blood. At least I'm not dreaming. Part of me wishes I were. The other part's just as happy and excited as Abby was that time Gibbs let us take her on a 'field-trip' to those crop circles. She loved that. I think I distinctly remember the words 'I'm forever in your debt' roll around my head.

Ironically, that's how I feel. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I mean, I guess a part of me is. Wait! I owe him nothing. NOTHING! Why am I blaming myself for this? It's just as much his fault as it is mine. If he wasn't do damned appealing, this wouldn't have happened. To hell with him. To hell with all men for that matter. I don't need 'em. I may want them, but I don't need them.

And to hell with the person who ever put that idea in my head in the first place. What kind of sick, twisted, immoral human being would want me to think that?

Oh, right. The parents.

Ok, here goes everything.

Step 1: Find the right house. "204…205…206…208…211…213…214…216…217."

Step 2: Walk up to that house, and knock on that door.

Step 3: Don't chicken out. Don't chicken out. DO NOT chicken out.

Step 4: Use small words, and TRY looking directly at his eyes.

"Hey Kate! I wasn't expecting you 'til later."

"I know."

Step 5: Graciously accept the kiss on the cheek he'll give you as you walk through the door.

Step 6: Don't lie. He knows a liar when he hears one.

"Is everything ok?"

"Uhm, I don't know. It might be. I want it to be."

Step 7: Don't confuse the poor man. He is, after all, a man.

"Ok. You're going to have to be a little more elaborate. They didn't offer jibberish as a language study at high-school."

Step 8: Make him sit down, incase he passes out.

"There's something I have to tell you."

Step 9: Try not to cry at the enormous amount of concern and panic he's showing.

"Has something happened? Is someone hurt? Gibbs rolled the car didn't he? I told him time and time again to get the roll bars…."

Step 10: Bite the bullet.

"I'm pregnant, Tony."