Set in my Intoxicated world. You have heard it before, but I will say it again, this is a sequel to Intoxicated, Fairytale, My Hero and Dinozzos-in-Training. I think that is all. Anyway, make sure you have read those before you read this, because otherwise you are going in blind, and that is never a good thing.

This is really, really angsty, all the way until the end, but please stick with it. They might be quite out of character, I do not know.

This is not set too long after DiNozzos-in-training, although I never specified any ages or dates in that, so I guess that is unimportant.

This was going to be your Christmas/Chanukkah present, but then I realised I could not wait. So merry early Christmas! Happy early Chanukkah!

Miracles

Ziva chewed on her fingernail and hesitated as she stood outside of Abby's lab, Christmassy music blaring out of the speakers and floating into the corridor outside. It was not the first time she had stood in that spot, biting that nail and wondering whether she had gone insane, or whether her husband was going to go insane. It was not the second, or even the third time she had stood there, hoping Abby would be able to come up with the answer she wanted, even if she did not know what it was she wanted in the first place. Her hand dropped to her stomach and she pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. She was getting too old for this. She was thirty-nine, her oldest child was fifteen, her youngest was ten. Her husband was fifty-four. She was too old to become a mother again. They hardly had the space for the three children and themselves already in the house, and they certainly did not have the room for a new baby. Nor did she or Tony have the time, they were both full-time field agents.

They had said no more. After Flavia, they had said there would be no more little surprises – they would be more careful. And they had succeeded, almost, for ten years.

Suddenly, a caffeinated whirlwind tore out of the lab, knocking Ziva out of her thoughts. Abby only noticed the nervous woman once she had spun around mid skip. "Ziva! What brings you down to the Lab of Abby?"

"Abby, I uh. I need to talk to you…I mean, it is important and I…I…"

"Can it hold on one minute? I really, really need the toilet." She was already bouncing off down the hall, not waiting for Ziva's response. Left somewhat bemused, Ziva turned and stepped into Abby's lab, her first mission to be turning the overly cheerful music off. Once the noise was dealt with, she slumped down into Abby's desk chair and dropped her head onto the desk, groaning at her own stupidity. "I'm back! Hey, what happened to my music?!"

"I turned it off. It was giving me a headache." She left her head where it was, not bothering to look up at her friend. "Abby, I need a favour."

"Oh, my God! I've heard those words before! You're pregnant! Again!" The Goth squealed, bouncing up and down like an energetic puppy – there was not much difference, really.

"No, Abby. Well…I mean, that is what I am here about." She tilted her face towards the high-pitched, excited squealing emanating from Abby, waiting for it to stop. When the woman finally fell silent, Ziva gulped, finding it difficult to control her breathing. "I just…I missed my period. I mean, it might be nothing, maybe I am just stressed, or something…"

Abby narrowed her eyes as Ziva's face paled and she dove towards the medical waste bin, only just making it in time before emptying her stomach contents. One of Abby's pale-skinned, tattooed hands rubbed circles on Ziva's back whilst the other held her hair back. She waited for it to be over before she left Ziva to grab the bottle of water sat on her desk and passed it to her. "Have you taken a test yet?"

She nodded slowly and held up two fingers. "But they might just be false positives."

"Statistically? No." Abby shook her head. "What does your gut say?"

"It says it is not happy, Abby."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I meant, with Caleb and Flavia, you were sure when you came down to me. Now, you don't seem to be."

"That is because I am not. It feels sort of the same, but…I do not know, Abby. With Tahlia and Caleb and Flavia, I never had bad morning sickness, I was never as tired as I am now. And I…" She paused and bit her lip, staring at Abby intensely, as if deciding whether to disclose the last piece of information. "I felt excited for them. I looked forward to feeling my baby move, to seeing the scans and holding my baby in my arms, but this time… All I can feel is dread. I do not know what Tony will say – we cannot afford another baby, not with Tahlia already considering colleges, we do not have enough space in the house, we are so busy here at the moment, Tony is not as young as he used to be, he cannot run around after a toddler as much as he used to be able to, our children are growing up, with exams and lives, they do not need to be woken up ever two hours for months on end by the crying of a new baby."

"Ziva, you're focusing on all of the negatives. You need to look on the positive side of this."

"That is easy for you to say, you are not…Flavia, what are you doing here? You should be at school."

"It is the winter holidays, Ima." The youngest of the three DiNozzo children stood in the doorway to the lab. "We have been here all day."

"Of course you have." She smiled, trying to convince her daughter that she was fine. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Since Auntie Abby said that you need to look on the positive side. Are you ill, Ima?" She looked at the unhealthy pallor of her mother's face with fear. Her mother opened her arms and she ran into them, burying her face into her shoulder and starting to sob. Ziva held her daughter, bringing her down to sit on the floor, their arms never unwinding from one another. "I do not want you to die, Ima. I love you too much." It had never been kept a secret from their children that Tony and Ziva's jobs were dangerous. They knew their mother's history, and they knew the risk that both of their parents took every day by coming into work. And, although they were prepared, or as prepared as one could be, for the day that one of their parents would not be coming home, sitting at the dinner table and laughing at Caleb's terrible jokes and kissing them each goodnight as the three children trooped off to bed, it had never occurred to them that either of their parents could be felled by invisible forces that even they could not fight.

"I am not ill, my little girl. I am not dying." She pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter's head, hugging the child's slight frame and pressing her cheek to the spot where her kiss had landed.

"Then why do you look ill, Ima?"

"It is just a stomach bug, Little One. There is nothing to worry about."

"Then why do you look so scared?"

"Since when have you ever seen me scared, Little One?"

Her daughter paused for a moment. "You looked scared the last time Tahlia broke her arm. And you were scared when Papà was away for a week last year and we could not call him." She smiled weakly.

"You are a very special little girl, Via. Do you know that?"

"I am not a little girl anymore, Ima. I just do not want you to die."

"And she won't. Not today, at least." Abby grinned down at the pair. "And like your Ima said, she's just got a little stomach bug."

"I want you to go down to Ducky." The child commanded. "You may not be worried, but I am."

"You have nothing to fear."

"I do. You are dying." Tears spilt down her cheek as she pleaded with her mother.

"Via, I am not dying. Nor do I need to go and see Ducky, he is busy."

"Then Jimmy can take a look at you."

"And how do you think that Papà would take Uncle Jimmy taking a look at me, hey? I do not think he would be very happy, he is very protective of us, you know."

"And possessive." Abby joined in with Ziva's effort to lighten the mood of the room. "Trust me, Via. Do you really think that I would let your Ima just be sat up here if she was dying?" Flavia thought for a moment before tilting her tear-marked face up and shaking her head. "Right then. Now, come on. I need your help with buying your brother's Christmas present and Chanukkah presents." The girl hopped up and slipped her hand into Abby's, starting babbling about what her brother would really like whilst Abby sent a meaningful look over to her friend. A look that said 'You are going down to Ducky whether you like it or not'.

The pungent stench of decomposition hit her in a wave as she stepped off of the elevator in the sub-basement, and it took all of her strength not to gag. "It smells like something has died down here, Ducky."

"Well, that is why it is called Autopsy. If the poor chap hadn't died then I would probably lose my job, not to mention my freedom, for slicing him up." He studied her closely as she hovered by the doors. "We have the fans running on high, but he is not as odorous as some of the fella's who've visited my table." He looked over to Jimmy, content with his own body two slabs down. "Dr Palmer, get our visitors back into the freezers. I will be back in an hour." He looked back to Ziva and the concerned expression etched onto her face. "Make that two."

"Doctor, I… Yes, Doctor." One look at the ex-assassin told the young doctor to follow Ducky's orders.

"Now, come on my dear. Let's go and get some tea." He grabbed his coat and hat and extended his arm for her. They walked to the elevator together and rode up to the squad room, where Ziva grabbed her coat and bag from behind her desk.

"Where are you going?" Tony asked, the interest clear in his voice.

"I am taking Ziva to get some tea, that is all. We have a few things to discuss." Ducky smiled at the younger man.

"You okay, Sweetheart?"

"Fine." She nodded, her smile forced.

"Ima, may I come?"

"Tahlia, you hate tea."

"But I like coffee."

"I'm afraid, my dear, we're going to the tearoom down the road, who do not serve coffee."

"Not coffee with so much cream and sugar in it that you cannot taste the coffee, that is," McGee smirked, ruffling the hair of the oldest of the DiNozzo children as he walked past her.

"I like my coffee black sometimes!"

"You drink your coffee like your father drinks his coffee," Ziva muttered, shaking her head. "I will be back soon, do not worry." She flashed a small smile to her colleagues and her children, or the eldest two at least. Her youngest was probably still down with Abby.

Tony watched as his wife walked out with the medical examiner, his forehead creased. "You think she's okay?" McGee asked quietly, standing by the team leader's desk and keeping his voice low so neither of the children could hear him.

"I'm sure she's fine, McGee." The younger man raised his eyebrows. "She didn't say she loves me."

"It doesn't mean anything, Tony."

"She's been distant recently, quiet. Ziva is never quiet. And she's been tense, like she won't let me even touch her – not in like, two weeks." He paused and looked into McGee's eyes. He couldn't believe he was saying all of this – to the Probie, as well. "The kids have noticed."

"She's probably just tired."

"Tired of me, you mean."

"Okay, if you are suggesting she's thinking about leaving you, you're insane. She loves you, Tony." McGee's voice was starting to raise, and he had to remind himself to keep it down.

"I think she's sleeping with someone else."

"You're paranoid. You've been married for sixteen years. She's not sleeping with anyone else."

"Then explain why she can hardly stand to look at me, McGee. She spends all her time with you, or Ducky. I barely see her."

"Tony, I really think you're reading too far into this. It's been a long couple of weeks for all of us." McGee sighed as shook his head, turning away. Tony grumbled as he slumped into his chair, his mind reeling with possibilities, each on worse than the previous.

"There you go, my dear." Ducky poured a cup of tea for her and for himself. "You do not look well this time."

"I do not feel well this time. I feel old."

"Hm, wait 'til you get to my age." He smiled, covering her hand with his.

"I just…we are so careful, Ducky."

"No form of contraception is 100% guaranteed. Even if you used every single form of contraception all at once, although the probability is minuscule, there is still a chance of pregnancy."

"Then why do we bother at all, Ducky?" She huffed in frustration, rubbing her hands over her face.

The old man smiled fondly at her, laughing a low, rumbling chuckle. "Because it greatly reduces the chances of any unexpected little surprises."

She folded her arms on the table and dropped her head onto them, moaning. "What am I to do, Ducky?"

"Talk to him. He'll understand."

"Ducky, he does not want any more children. Maybe if this had happened five years ago, things would be different, but now…I just…what if I have ruined everything?"

"You can hardly take any blame for this, Ziva. I am sure you will agree that it was a joint effort, as with your other three children, and given a few months you will come to love this child as you do your others. You are a good mother, Ziva, and none of us has ever doubted you."

"Ever?" She raised her eyebrows as a mischievous look drifted onto Ducky's face.

"Well, we were not so sure when you suggested aubergine for your dining room, but in the end, it worked."

Dinner was held in a tense silence. Ziva had barely spoken since returning from tea with Ducky, no matter how many times she was spoken to. She had touched the food only in order to shove some around on the plate and kept her eyes focused downwards in shame. Her wine was untouched in front of her, whilst Tony had made it through two glasses already. "Wash, dry and tidy." Tony pointed to the kids in order of age and they all stood up, obeying the orders and collecting their parent's plates along with their own and moving to the kitchen. He picked up his near empty wineglass and upended the vessel, catching the dregs of the red velveteen substance between his lips, before standing up and looking at her. "I'm thinking of watching the Sound of Music tonight." A film she could not resist, he knew it. And yet she did as she stood up carefully, keeping her eyes down and her head hung low.

"Not tonight, Tony." Her voice was quiet as they left the dining room, the only remnants of their difficult dinner the two candles on the table, slowly burning down, and the glass that, in the dim yellow light, looked as though it contained something much more sinister than alcoholic grape juice. And as Tony glared at her, it might have. For the first time in their relationship, he was angry with her, and verging on disgusted. He had spent sixteen years trying to be there for her, trying to love her, and she was throwing it all back in his face. But most of all, above all of the resentment, the single overwhelming emotion was pain and hurt. They walked through to the living room, a tension that neither had felt for years straining between them. The room was lit colourfully, the rainbow lights of the Christmas tree bringing colour to the cream walls of the room, whilst the five of the eight candles of the Chanukiah, and the shamash cast flickering shadows around the room. "We need to talk."

"Then talk." He sat on the arm of the chair, before standing up and pacing.

"Tony, I…"

He shook his head. "No. No. I want to talk. You disappear all the time, you don't talk to me anymore, we have not made love in over a month, which is a record for us, you can't stand to look at me, or our children." He took a deep breath and turned to her, trying to remove the tightness from his chest. "Who is it? Who are you sleeping with?" His voice came out taut and strangled, pleading; not the strong, confident, angry voice he had hoped for. There was a muted whimper from the doorway as the three other members of the family stood, watching their parents. Never had they seen them stood so far apart from one another when there was nothing holding them

Ziva's head whipped round at the sound, staring at the source of the noise. "Bed. Now!"

"Ima? Please?"

"NOW!" She watched as her eldest shepherded the younger two upstairs, pain and distrust and betrayal written across their faces, and her heart broke. "Why, Tony, would you say that in front of them?!"

"They already know. They just didn't want to believe that you would do something like this. I didn't want to believe it. I want to believe you love them, Ziva, but I don't anymore, and neither do they!" She crossed the gap that separated them in seconds, her hand colliding with his cheekbone before she realised what she was even doing.

"I love them, Tony. More than anything. Never, ever, say otherwise." Her voice was low and threatening.

"Well, you have a funny way of showing it, going off with some other guy… Tell me who he is!"

"No!"

"Who've you been sleeping with, Ziva?! I deserve to know!" His voice grew louder as his anger increased, and now, with the advantage, he backed her up towards the wall. "Is it someone we know?! McGee?! He has been defending you a lot lately!"

She tried not to let the sting of his words show on her face. "McGee is a brother, Tony! Do you really want to know who I have been sleeping with?!"

"Yes!"

She looked to her feet and dropped her voice. "You. For the past sixteen years, it has only ever been you."

"I don't believe you!"

"I am pregnant." He stayed silent this time, staring at her. "I am not having an affair, or sleeping with McGee, or thinking of leaving you. I am pregnant." He narrowed his eyes at her. "With your child." She clarified. "I went for tea with Ducky today to ask for his advice. I have been disappearing because I have not been feeling well. I have been hiding because we have not got the time or the money or the space for another child and I did not want to disappoint you." She looked down at her hands, ignoring the tears that were desperately trying to overspill. "I know you do not want any more children." She watched as he stormed out, closing her eyes and swallowing when the front door slammed behind him. One hand dropped down to her stomach as a tear dribbled down her cheek. And then the rhythmic thumping of a ball hitting a wall and the hardwood flooring upstairs drifted through the haze that clouded her senses and she looked up to the ceiling, guilt washing over her and clearing the fog that engulfed her mind. She dried her eyes and started climbing the stairs to her eldest daughter's bedroom, hesitating outside the closed door from which the sound of the ball and a muffled conversation emanated. As her fist connected in a light tap, the murmurs ceased whilst the ball, although loosing its rhythm, continued the same, if not harder. "May I come in?" She was greeted with silence. "Please?" With no response, she entered, seeing her youngest daughter curled up on her eldest's arms on the small double that took up most of the room, and her son, sat at the foot of the bed throwing a tennis ball at the wall, letting it bounce onto the floor and then catching it. His gaze did not stray from the spot on the floor where the ball hit every time.

Flavia looked up from where her tearstained face had been buried into her sister's side, her bottom lip quivering. "Why could you not have just told me that you do not love us when I though you were dying?!"

Ziva sighed and looked down before turning back to her child. "Would it have made a difference?"

"Yes! I hate you and I am glad you are dying!" She flung herself back into her sister's arms, sobbing as Tahlia ran soothing fingers over her hair.

"I am not dying, Flavia."

"Then I wish you were!"

"Caleb?"

"You know what you did. You deserve what you get." He kept his eyes averted still.

"Tahlia?" She turned to her eldest daughter, using all her training to not let the overwhelming pain show in her voice.

"Dad loves you, and he always has. He's a good man and you don't deserve him."

"I have never deserved your father. Not once in my life. But I would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, either. I love him, and I love you."

"Then why are you having an affair?" Tahlia's voice was dead, empty.

"I am not. Nor have I ever. I would never." Her throat grew tight. "I could never hurt any of you."

"But you have."

She backhanded the tears that tumbled down her face as she looked at her three children. "I never intended to." She sighed at her son's snort. "I am not having an affair, I am pregnant." There was a stunned silence as her offspring absorbed the news.

"Then why've you been so…"

"Distant?" Tahlia supplied for her brother.

"We do not have the room for another child. And do you all want a baby waking you up through all hours of the night?"

"Is that what you worried about before we were all born?" The eldest of the DiNozzo children asked, almost challenging her mother.

"No. But you are starting exams, you have a lot of work at school, you need to be able to sleep. And we have the room for three children, not four." She looked down to her hands and her voice grew quieter. "Besides, your father does not want any more children." She felt strong arms pulling her into a hug and was shocked to see Tahlia's tear-marked face inches from her own.

"Sorry, Ima. We thought you had stopped loving us."

"I could never stop loving you, Tahlia. None of you." She smiled as Flavia barrelled into her.

"I did not mean what I said, Ima. Really. I was just angry because I thought you did not want us anymore. I do love you, Ima, and even if you did not love me I could never really hate you and I really am glad you are not dying." She started sobbing again into her mother's shirt. All three females turned to Caleb, who continued to look away from them.

"If you think I'm going over there and joining your hug, or pronouncing any confessions of undying love, all non-romantic, mind, 'cause you're my Ima and sisters, and that would be hinky, then you are all greatly mistaken."

"Are you crying, Caleb?" One of the girls asked, looking over to him as he hid his face from them.

"No. DiNozzo men don't cry." There was an audible sniff and he shook his head.

"Well, you can't be much of a DiNozzo man, then, can you. You cried your eyes out at the end of Forrest Gump." Tahlia retorted, sniggering.

"It's an emotionally traumatising film." He defended himself, sniffing again. Via ran over to him and flung her arms around him. "I knew you were crying."

"Get off, Via. I'm not crying."

"It is okay to cry, Caleb. We will not think any less of you."

"Well, you might not, Ima, but I certainly will." Tahlia grinned, receiving a gentle tap to the back of her head. "Oh, man up Caleb and give Ima a hug!"

"Fine, okay." He stood up and walked over, his shoulders hunched as he approached. He looked between the other three, his cheeks pink, before bursting into tears and wrapping his arms around her tighter than both Tahlia and Flavia put together. "I thought you hated us, Ima. I thought we had done something wrong."

"You have done nothing wrong." She kissed the top of his head.

"Ima?"

"Yes, Caleb?"

"Can you have a boy this time? I want someone cool to hang out with."

"You realise if you keep saying things like that to me I'll stop taking you to the cinema after school on Wednesdays," Tahlia said, her eyes bulging when she realised her mother's glare on her. "Not that I do that, ever. But I will never do it because Caleb is being so rude to me, so you never have to worry about me taking him to the cinema because I never have and I never will."

Ziva tried to hide the smirk as she leant over to her daughter and whispered in her ear. "You are a cruel woman, Tahlia. And a poor liar. I have known that you take him to the cinema since you first started doing it last year, and I know that you will continue, no matter what you tell him."

"Well, he should learn to treat me better." She shrugged, kissing her mother's cheek. "You should lie down."

"I am fine."

"Then I want a hug." She dragged her mother over to the bed, towing Caleb and Flavia along with her as they curled up together, nestled into a bundle of duvet and blanket. They stayed silent for a long time, Ziva staring up at the ceiling as Tahlia hugged her from one side, Caleb from the other, tapping Via between him and their mother. Flavia placed her head on Ziva's stomach, clinging on for dear life around her mother's waist. "So what happens now, then?"

"I have no idea, Tahlia. No idea at all."

"We'll get through it, Ima. We always do." Flavia said confidently.

Ziva woke to clattering upstairs, wondering what could be going on and why she was surrounded by so many warm bodies, until she remembered earlier that evening. Her children crying, her husband storming out of the house. All three of the kids were as they were when they had fallen asleep, all with their arms around her. She carefully unwound their arms from her and escaped their grasp, slipping off the bed carefully so as not to wake them before making her way upstairs to the source of the noise. To her surprise the attic trapdoor was open and yellow light filtered down. She sighed and climbed up the ladder, poking her head through the small hole. Tony was covered in dust, moving boxes around. His face looked perplexed as he walked from one side of the space to the other, testing the height of the room. She watched as he took a tape measure out from his pocket and measured from one point to another. He tilted his head, noticing her for the first time. "We have two options really. Option one, we get an extension put in. I'm guessing we'll want the baby's room upstairs, to keep some continuity, and to prevent any form of separation, and plus it is more convenient, which means that we will need two stories of extension, which will cost a lot and there is not really anywhere to join it to upstairs at the back. Our second option is to convert the attic into a bedroom. Again, this will not be cheap, but it is more practical. The height in here is good, there is enough headspace and we could even put a dormer in to increase space further. The only real problem would be the stairs. There isn't really enough room for a proper staircase, but I think I have a solution. See, there's no room for a flight of stairs like the others in the house, but there is room for a spiral staircase. And I think there's even enough for an en suite up here, which means that we can move our room up here and have the baby's room where our room is now, and…"

"Tony. What are you doing?" She asked as he jumped about, talking faster than the national speed limit.

"I'm making it work, Ziva."

"We cannot afford this." She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she thought of his enthusiasm.

"No, that's just it. We can." He beamed, walking over to her and helping her up into the attic space. "I went to the office and I did some maths and I reckon we can. I reckon that if we are careful, we can do this. We just need to be more conscious of things like shopping, which you already are, but I'm not, but that's something I can work on. And we can make sure that the kids only use the lights when they really need it, and not use the washer and dryer all the time, we can hang clothes outside to dry when it's sunny. And I'll sell my car."

"No, Tony, you love your Mustang."

"I never use my Mustang. And I love you and the kids more. All four of them."

I am thinking of adding another couple of chapters. What do you think?

For my reference: 47th NCIS fic.