Title: Newborn Hope
Pairing: established McGee/Ziva
Rating: K+
Genre: Drama, Episode Tag, Fluff, Romance
Cat: Het
Spoilers: Episode tag for Newborn King.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ziva lets McGee know all she really wants for Christmas.
Author's Note: So people kept saying, "Where's Ziva?" in:re the end of the episode, so I made up my own little story to resolve that ending. Could be considered AU since McGee and Ziva aren't a couple on the show, but let's just pretend Ray doesn't exist for the sake of this story.

Ziva pushed her apartment door open with one hand, wincing a bit as she felt pain sear through her shoulder. She hadn't really been injured in the firefight and resulting fight fight earlier, but she was sore, and she felt like crying, or throwing up, one of the two. It was why she'd asked to go home, rather than hanging around NCIS. She needed to get away from work for awhile.

She unzipped and removed her jacket, hanging it up as she toed off her shoes, then walked to the kitchen, pulling the hair tie from her hair and shaking her hair loose. Tea was next on her agenda, though she sent a longing glance at a bottle of wine resting in the wine rack next to the stove, just waiting to be opened and enjoyed.

She shook away that thought and filled her teapot with water and set it on to boil, getting out a cup and a tin of tea as she waited. She was just about to sit down at the counter, pick up where she had left off in the current novel she was reading, when she heard someone in the hallway outside her door. Her senses sharpened as she prepared for the intruder, and she stood ready to attack if necessary.

The doorknob turned as the intruder attempted to get inside, and after a few failed attempts, she heard, "Ziva, open the door. I forgot my key."

Ziva rolled her eyes and walked to the door, unlocking and opening it, giving the person on the other side a pointed look. "I know you, Timothy McGee, and you did not forget your key."

He gave her a soft pout. "No, but I just wanted to make sure you were home, and that you were okay."

Ziva held his gaze for a moment before dipping her head and stepping aside so he could enter the apartment. "I am fine, Tim. A little sore, but. . ."

"You had to kill someone," he interrupted. "On Christmas Eve. That would shake up anybody." He paused and Ziva could feel the warmth of his body right behind her. "And don't give me any of that, 'Oh, but I'm Jewish,' stuff, Ziva. Unless you don't take our celebrations seriously."

"Of course not," she said in a hushed tone, spinning to face him and pressing herself against him. "I am sorry I worried you. I should have. . ." She trailed off, letting out a sigh. "I needed to get away from NCIS."

He nodded, running gentle fingers through her hair. "I understand. I wish you would have let me know you were okay, but I understand." She looked up at him and he gave her a serious look. "But you can't get mad at me for worrying about you. I'm never going to not worry about you. I love you."

Ziva closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him as she did so. "I know. I love you, too." His hand fell to her back and she allowed herself to relax, letting the soothing sounds of McGee's heartbeat to take over.

The teapot on the stove took that moment to whistle, however, and Ziva sighed, reluctantly pushing herself away from McGee's chest, but taking his hand and pulling him along with her as she retreated back into the kitchen. "How are the lieutenant and the baby?" she asked, releasing his hand to take the kettle off the burner.

McGee smiled. "They're doing great. Everything seemed to be fine when we left the hospital, and with no bad guys after them anymore. . ." He trailed off, grinning, but his grin faded as he watched Ziva give a slight smile and then turn to pour some of the hot water into a cup. He walked over to her. "You okay? I can see there's something on your mind, behind those beautiful brown eyes." That made her smile grow a bit, but she still looked sad. "Come on, you can tell me."

Ziva turned her attention to her tea, stirring some of the loose leaves into her cup and watching them swirl before drifting to the bottom of the cup. She raised the cup to her mouth and blew gently over the steaming liquid, buying time in her response. McGee stood there, crossing his arms loosely over his chest; he'd spent enough time with her to know she'd talk eventually and he shouldn't push her, or else she'd close up completely.

After another minute of silence, Ziva carefully set the cup down again, realizing she'd need a bit more time before she could drink it. "It is difficult to do this job sometimes," she said, her voice soft. "It can be dangerous, and the hours are long, and even though we are lucky enough to be on the same team and be together most of the time, I often wish we had more time together, where we didn't have to hide."

McGee let out a sigh. "You want to tell Gibbs."

Ziva half-rolled her eyes, turning her head. "I am sure he already knows. But I would not have said yes when you proposed if I did not think we could make it work."

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, yeah, sure, we can tell Gibbs. What made you change your mind? You were always okay with keeping it out of the office before."

She stared at him for a few moments, then quietly said, "I want a baby."

The silence that fell felt heavy on Ziva's shoulders, and the longer it grew, the more sure she was she'd made a mistake. She knew Tim loved her, and he wanted to spend his life with her, but maybe this was too soon for him. She glanced at his face again and found his expression unreadable, and the sting of tears felt foreign and betraying.

McGee looked down at her and, seeing the disappointed look in her eyes, closed the gap between them, enveloping her in his arms. "Hey, no crying. You'll make me feel like the bad guy."

Ziva felt a tear fall despite his orders and let out a frustrated breath. "You did not say anything," she said, trying to make her voice as strong as possible.

"What am I supposed to say? It's a pretty big thing to think about."

Ziva pulled away from him, gaining her courage back. "It is, and it is something I have thought a lot about. I know the risks, and I would not mention it if I were not absolutely sure that I wanted it."

"Hey, I know that," McGee said, resting his palm gently on her cheek. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"You did not think I wanted a family?" Ziva asked, knowing in her heart that's not what he meant, but needing him to confirm it, anyway . . . and suddenly feeling very ashamed of that need.

"No, no," he said, getting a dreamy smile on his face. "I could tell, watching you around children whenever we've had a case involving them, that it was something you longed for, even if you probably thought it would never happen." Ziva frowned a bit, wondering when he'd started to be able to read her so well, and he continued. "But then, after we got together, I'd see you around kids and that look in your eyes changed. It went from longing for something you'd never have to the bright hope that maybe that would be your future, and honestly, Ziva?" She looked up at him hopefully and he grinned at her. "That made me happier than you could ever know." She finally gave him a genuine smile and he added, "That probably all sounded super cheesy, I know."

Her grin widened and she leaned her forehead against his chest. "You are a writer, so I will accept it." She heard his grumble at that and laughed, and he tilted his head down to kiss her on top of her head.

"So, I don't know about you," he said then, and Ziva looked back up at him, "but I can think of a very good way to spend Christmas this year."

"Oh?" Ziva asked, the smile not leaving her face.

He nodded. "You never know how long it'll take us to cross that wish off your list, Ziva."

She felt the tears building in her eyes again, but this time they were out of happiness, and gratitude. She gave him another tight hug and let out a sigh, knowing the one gift she had truly wanted had already been given to her.

Hope.

THE END!