I know, I should be working on Brown on Green, Routines and It Takes Two, and I am, you just do not know it because I have not actually got anything to upload for them now. They are all taking longer than I had expected, Brown on Green especially so, and they are giving me headaches every time I even think about them.

But this one is more or less complete, or at least the first three of a possible four chapters are complete.

Nothing to do with the episode of the same title.

This basically stemmed from a conversation about coffee and euphemisms.

Dead Reckoning

She sat with the pregnancy test in her hand as her world fell down around her. It couldn't be happening.

Not to her…

It couldn't…

She couldn't…

They couldn't…

They had used protection.

Or had they?

They had both been drunk, and, well, most of the night was a blur – an amazing blur – but a blur all the same.

Maybe it was all just a mistake – a false positive.

But she knew that statistically getting three false positives in a row was very unlikely.

She was Mossad for crying out loud, she should have been in control of herself.

It had happened the night they had gotten their boss back from the terrorists, and she had taken it unusually hard. The whole case had been difficult to work as they were absent a leader, and having the senior field agent take over that position had been…trying to say the least. It would have been fine, had he not forced them to participate in his pointless 'campfires'. And then they had broken the case right open, and the team had pulled it together in the last moments to save their boss. She couldn't remember whose idea it had been to go to the bar as a celebration, but she could remember that when they arrived none of them had been in a particularly celebratory mood. So they all wallowed in misery, every so often exchanging stories of close calls and near misses, until they called in a night.

At least, most of them called it a night.

Two federal agents continued to sit in almost silence 'til the copious amounts of alcohol started to take effect. And then they sat, loudly laughing at jokes that weren't funny, until the early hours of the morning crept up on them and the bartender, whose name was not Geoff or Gregory but could have been George, called them a cab.

She shouldn't have stayed at the bar with him once everyone else had left. She shouldn't have accepted mojito after mojito from him. She shouldn't have offered him coffee when they stumbled towards the taxi cab that the barman had called for them. They never even had the coffee, although she was certain that 'coffee' was just an American euphemism anyway, in which case they certainly had 'coffee'. Multiple times. She shouldn't have kissed him as he pressed her against the wall of her apartment building, but then he shouldn't have pressed her against the wall of her apartment building in the first place. She had no idea how they managed to blindly stumble up the stairs, or into her apartment, but she knew that they hadn't made it five feet into her sitting room before they were both on the floor, suffering a severe lack of clothing. At some point they had moved through to her bedroom, knocking over a chair and a lamp in the process.

He'd been gone when she woke in the morning. She went through her daily routine whilst nursing a hangover and avoiding her best friend, not an easy task when you work opposite him, for the next three weeks. She'd assigned the missed period to the stress caused by weeks of dodging him. And then he apologised. And she told him it was unnecessary and it was already forgotten. And for three more weeks they'd been back to normal.

Or they had tried to convince themselves they were back to normal, but they both knew it was a lie. Everyone else saw it too, the loud lack of flirting and joking, the absence of teasing and tormenting. They were professional – something neither of them had ever been around one another.

And then she missed her period a second time, and she conceded that the missed periods weren't stress related, and the vomiting wasn't because she had a stomach bug.

And now she was going to have to tell him that she was pregnant. With his child.

That certainly wasn't going to go down well – he was a ladies man, a player. What would he think? He would run for the hills, she knew it. It was just how he was built.

There was a knock on the locked men's room door and she quickly stood up from the floor, sticking the test in its box and throwing it in the bin, scrubbing her hands as if she could scrub her shame away before turning to the door and yanking it open. The very man she needed to talk to and hoped to avoid for the rest of the day stumbled in, pushing past her to the urinals before stopping and turning slowly around. He stared at the tears coursing down her face.

"What's wrong."

"It was not supposed to happen like this."

"What wasn't?"

"A baby." She let her words sink in and felt her chest tighten as his face fell.

"What baby?" He tried to play the ignorance card, tried to pretend that she wasn't saying what she was saying.

"Yours. I am pregnant, Tommy."

The End…

McGee smiled proudly to himself as he tucked the epilogue to his next book, Dead Reckoning, into his folder. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, yawning and heading off to bed, flicking the light out as he left the room. He would give the final page of his manuscript to his publisher tomorrow on his way to work, and then it would be out of his hands. Everything else was edited, and ready for printing, all that was needed was the epilogue, and it was finally complete. He would start on his forth book whilst his third was being prepared to go on the market.

Oh dear, McGee…I fear I shall have to write them threatening you. I would apologise, but it is a sign of weakness. Oh, well.

This will have four parts, maybe more if I can be bothered and can actually come up with anything half decent. All I have been wanting to do recently is write little three or four parters, but the plots keep spiralling out of control and I have had to reorganise everything into specific folders because it was all getting really, really confusing.

The next two chapters are complete though, so they will be uploaded in the next day or so, depending upon how I feel.

Oh, hey, look this is my 50th story that I have uploaded. I like 50. It is a good number. 50 NCIS fictions will be coming up soon, and I have something great planned.

For my reference: 36th NCIS fic.