Title: Parentage
Pairing: None, but leans toward McGee/Ziva
Rating: FR13
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, UST
Cat: Gen/slightly Het
Spoilers: Missing scene from The Tower. :D
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ziva makes a necessary phone call and realizes something about herself from it.
Author's Note: The first of my missing scene fics from The Tower. This one is Ziva calling . . . Daddy David. Ooh.
Ziva rolled her neck as she stared at her phone. She'd been meaning to make this call for some time, ever since she'd found out she was pregnant, but every time she'd started to make the call, something had come up.
That something usually being her losing the courage to go through with it.
It was amazing, how someone who held no fear of death, of situations most people would find terrifying, was scared to tell her father she was about to have a child. But she knew he would frown upon the situation, and though she was prepared for his reaction, to actually hear it was an entirely different thing.
Tonight, she was ready.
She scrolled to her father's name in her contact list and pressed the call button, holding the phone to her ear and resting a hand on her stomach. She closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of ringing and pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to hang up. She needed to do this now, before she got any further along. She was already in her fifth month, and she felt he should know before she reached her last trimester.
She found herself jolted from her thoughts by her father's voice. "It is Eli," he said. "Who is this?"
"Ah, shalom, Papa," Ziva said, suddenly feeling even more nervous.
"Ahh, Ziva," he said, sounding more casual once he knew who it was. "To what do I owe this call?"
"I'm pregnant," Ziva blurted out before she could even think, then shook her head to herself. That was definitely not how she had planned on saying it.
There was a pause over the line and Ziva almost hung up, sure he was too angry to form words, but then he spoke. "Pregnant?"
"Yes, I . . ." Ziva brushed at her eyes, the tears that were building and threatening to fall. "It was not expected. I got careless."
Eli sighed on his end of the line. "Ziva," was all he said, but just the tone of his voice signaled to Ziva his disappointment.
"I have to go," Ziva said then, not wanting to hear anymore. She quickly pulled the phone from her ear, her fingers shaking as she ended the call.
It didn't take long for the tears she'd been holding back to give way and streak down her cheeks, and she threw her phone to the couch in frustration, letting out a sob. She tried so hard, and all she wanted was to make her father proud. This certainly did not help matters any.
She was just about to fall onto the couch herself, hug a pillow and cry into it to get it out of her system, but she heard a knock at her door before she could and stared at it. It took a short moment for her to remember that McGee was coming over tonight; he'd said he had a surprise for her. Why she had chosen tonight to make that phone call to her father, she wasn't sure.
She heard the sound of the doorknob being jiggled and McGee's voice a moment later. "Ziva? You okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?" His paranoia took over and the jiggling became more forceful, and Ziva hurried to the door, unlocking and opening it before he ripped the knob from the door.
McGee let out a breath. "Thank God. I thought something was wrong. . ." He looked up then and frowned as he took in her expression. "Hey, you okay?"
Ziva hesitated before shaking her head, and McGee closed the gap between them, setting down the paper bag he'd brought and gathering her to his chest, feeling the wetness of her tears on his shirt. He turned partially and closed the door, then turned his attention back to Ziva, who was sniffling as she hugged him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft. Throughout her pregnancy thus far, he'd only seen her this emotional a few times, and something told him this was more than just hormones. "Hey, let's go sit down, and you can tell me. Or we can just sit. I don't want to push you if you don't want to talk about it." He gently guided her over to the couch and sat, waiting for Ziva to join him. She sat next to him, drawing her legs up and leaning into him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she accepted his touch, virtually crawling onto his lap. His concern only grew at her actions; she'd never gotten as close as she was tonight. He was about to go against what he'd just said and make her tell him what was wrong when Ziva spoke.
"I told my father," she said, and McGee let out a breath. He'd known from the little time he'd had with Ziva's father that he wasn't exactly the warmest person.
"He didn't take it well, I assume?" he asked, running a hand down her hair.
"No, or well, he did not sound pleased, at least," she said, bringing a hand up to wipe away her tears. "He sounded . . . disappointed."
"What did he say?" McGee asked, and Ziva sat up a bit, looking him in the eye.
"Nothing," she said, tucking some hair behind her ear. "My name. I hung up before he could say anything else."
McGee stared at her. "Ziva, you can't believe he's not happy. He's probably just shocked. You have to give him a chance."
That made her tears start again and she wiped at her eyes in annoyance, saying, "I have given him chance after chance. I have waited and waited for him to be there for me, to be the father I need him to be. He is never there, and he never will be, because family is just another word to him, nothing more." She stopped talking and attempted to control her emotions, but her tears continued to fall and she let out a sob as the gravity of the situation overcame her.
McGee's arms immediately went around her, drawing her close to him again as he pressed his lips to her forehead and murmured against her skin. "If he's that bad, then you don't need him. You don't need to worry about him. You have people who love and care about you here, at NCIS." He pulled away and held her head in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "We're your family, Ziva. Don't forget that. You'll always have us."
She nodded, smiling a bit, then buried her face in his chest, mumbling, "I don't deserve you, Tim. But I am very glad to have you. So very glad." She kept her hold of him as her tears settled, and let out a yawn a few moments later.
"You should go to bed," McGee said softly. "I'd apologize for coming over so late, but I'm not sorry at all." He smiled at her and she laughed, rubbing her eyes.
When she looked at him again, she remembered his earlier words. "You said you had a surprise for me."
He stretched his arms over his head and pushed himself from the couch, walking back to the bag he'd set down earlier. "It's not much, but. . ." He reached into the bag and produced a bakery box, which had Ziva suddenly wide awake and scrambling to her feet as she hurried over to him, wanting to see what was in the box.
"Cupcakes!" she said, her eyes wide with delight. She glanced up at him and he couldn't keep the grin from his face, happy he could bring that kind of joy to her, even if it was just through baked goods.
"Not just any cupcakes, either," he said, and her eyes widened even more. "Chocolate cherry swirl cupcakes, with cherry vanilla frosting."
Ziva moaned at the thought. "Oh, that sounds incredible," she said, and snuck another glance at the box, making McGee laugh.
"You can have one," he said. "They're for you, after all."
"Just one?" Ziva pouted.
"You can have as many as you want," he corrected, then opened the box, as Ziva continued to stare in awe at the huge cupcakes, not making a move to take one. He laughed again. "Do you need me to feed it to you, too?"
She lifted her gaze to his face, a devious glint in her eyes. "You could. . ." she suggested, poking her tongue out of her mouth to run over her lips.
He groaned softly. "That . . . is probably not a good idea," he finally said, and didn't miss the pout Ziva gave him. "Come on. I'll go get some milk. You sit down." He stepped past her, setting the box of cupcakes on her coffee table before retreating into the kitchen, leaving Ziva staring after him with narrowed eyes. She wasn't sure why they were hedging around each other like this; it was clear their feelings were mutual, but she supposed that as long as it happened eventually, she could live with waiting.
"Here we are," McGee's voice interrupted her thoughts. "A glass for you, and one for myself."
"I thought you were cutting back on the sweets," Ziva said.
He shrugged. "I can make an exception," he said, and Ziva hmphed. He reached into the box and grabbed a cupcake, handing it to Ziva, who nodded her thanks and unwrapped the paper from the lower half of the treat.
"You really did not have to do this," she said, dipping her finger into the frosting and bringing it to her lips, sucking it off while holding McGee's gaze. "But I am glad you did. I can always use a treat." Her lips turned up into a smirk as she lifted the cupcake to her mouth and sank her teeth in, her eyes closing in pleasure as she tasted the rich mix of flavors. "Oh my God, this is amazing," she mumbled through a mouthful of cake. McGee grinned and shook his head at her. She finished chewing and opened her eyes again, meeting McGee's eyes. "Thank you again. It was like you knew exactly what I needed tonight."
"Cupcakes?" he asked, only half joking.
She gave him a warm smile. "Something like that," she said, and a comfortable silence fell between them as they indulged in the cupcakes, savoring every sweet bite.
A few minutes later, Ziva drained the last of the milk from her glass and stretched her arms out in front of her, letting out a loud yawn. McGee smiled at her. "Like I said earlier, time for bed for you. Come on." He stood up and held out a hand for her to take, and she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from the couch. She put her other hand on her stomach as she stood, smiling as she felt a kick.
"I do not think she liked that," she commented, and McGee laughed, pulling her toward her bedroom.
Once they reached the door to her room, McGee stopped, allowing her to go inside. He said, "Well, I guess I will see you tomorrow," and nodded, then turned to go, but Ziva's hand on his back stopped him and he turned back around. "Did you need something?"
"No." She shook her head, and he started to pull away again, so she spoke quickly before he could. "I just thought. . . Would you stay?"
He just looked at her for a moment, not sure he'd understood her. "You . . ." he started, and she shook her head again, waving him away.
"Forget it," she said, and let out a sigh. "I have become very needy now that I am pregnant. I should not be so demanding of you when you have already done more than what is necessary for me."
"Ziva," he interrupted, and she stared at him. He smiled. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay."
She let out a breath and wrapped her arms around him, whispering, "Thank you." The hug was over as soon as it began, and she headed for the bed, giving him the time to take off his pants and shirt, leaving him in an undershirt and his boxers.
He joined her shortly after, climbing onto the bed and giving her plenty of space. She looked over her shoulder at him. "I do not bite," she said, smiling as she added, "unless you are into that sort of thing."
He rolled his eyes at her. "I just wanted to give you your space."
She smiled at him. "I figured as much, but . . ." She sighed and slowly turned to face him, a hand resting on her stomach. "It would be nice to wake up and know I am not alone."
He nodded, serious again. "You don't have to worry about that, Ziva. I'm here."
Ziva nodded and turned her back to him, her posture slightly stiff as McGee turned off the lamp next to the bed, but relaxing as she felt him move closer to her, draping an arm over her possessively. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek and longed to turn and kiss him, but resisted the temptation. There would be time for that later. For now, she was more than happy to have this, to have him lying next to her.
She would call her father again the next night, she decided, so she knew for sure. But she realized as she drifted off in the safety of McGee's embrace that she could live with whatever he had to say, because she had the chance to be the kind of parent he never was, and nothing he could say would change that.
THE END