A/N: Hello, once again...The day we've all been waiting for! Um..not really. But Ziva and Tony have been. I was struck with inspiration yesterday. I had to start it. And then, I finished it. Will y'look at that? ::silly grin:: I hope you enjoy Tony...And Gibbs...And Ziva. Oh my! Love, Kat.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, but I definitely own this story-line and the baby. Well, no, I don't own the baby, either. But...you get the picture.

"Oh my God," I wail as pressure continues down my spine and pelvis. No classes could have ever possibly prepared me for this. Granted, then it was not for real, and now I am actually laying in a bed bringing a fragile life into the world, but that is beside the point.

I am not making sense. "Leazeazel!" I shout, mostly out of frustration. "Why can I not have pain relievers or something? Please? Tony," I pant, and then feel a cloth dabbing at my forehead. I glance over and Tony has a towel clutched tightly in one hand, and my hand in his other.

"Ziva," he murmurs, "do you think you could maybe—um—let go just a bit?"

I stare at him murderously. This is all his fault, of course, and he deserves my glare. "Not until I get some sort of pain reliever."

"Your epidural's coming, Zeev," he states, again dabbing at my forehead. "But just think about—"

"Think about what?" I snap. The pain begins to dissolve and I am simply uncomfortable. Letting out a sigh of relief, I turn to Tony and say, "The fact we are bringing a new life into existence?" He nods. "Oh, Tony, if I had known it would feel like this I would have never signed on."

Tony looks at me in shock and I make what is probably a very ugly face. At this point, however, I do not care. I have been on bed-rest for a month and a half, with neighbors checking on me every now and then during the day; Abby or McGee—with the occasional addition of Gibbs—would come see me at night. Tony would be there every night and every morning, doting on my every whim. I was a queen for four weeks. And now? I want it done. Over. I want to hold my baby in my arms and forego the pain. I feel like some sort of anim—

"AH!" I shout in pain, gripping Tony's hand so hard that, for a fleeting moment, I worry that I will break it. Unfortunately, my focus is predominantly on two things.

The ripping sensation going through my body, and the fact I'm giving birth. I am fairly certain that the two go hand-in-hand. Of course, who am I to say that? This is my first child.

"Give me a damn epidural," I demand, crunching forward under the duress of the pain shooting across my abdomen. As the contraction fades, I relax back into pillows, knowing I look like Hell and waving Tony's hand away when he tries to daub my temple. "Please? I know I said early that I did not want one, but I have changed my mind." The nurse nods and walks over to a cabinet on the far side of the room.

"I'm going to ask you to gently and slowly turn onto your left side," she says slowly. Her voice is very soothing, deep and almost gravelly. Tony stands and helps roll me over and I breathe as I adjust to the new position. "Alright, Ziva, now you'll feel something cold as I sanitize the area, and then a pinch." Right she is, I think to myself, squeezing my partner's hand as I feel the needle pierce my skin.

"Is it … is it done now?" I ask, my voice barely above the whisper. "Oh, good. That is much better." I sigh. "Mm." My next contraction—five minutes later—draws nothing more than a wince. "I—hee hee—am—hoo hoo—never—hee hee—having—hoo hoo—sex—hee hee—again—hoooooooo…"

A tall man in a blue gauzy coat comes in and pulls a chair over to the end of my hospital bed. "Hello, Ziva," he greets me, his eyes smiling over his surgeon's mask. "How are we today?"

"We," I repeat, "are sick of the pain." On second thought…"I just had an epidural, though, and I think perhaps that helped. I just feel like something is pushing on my back."

Doctor Steinman chuckles. "Well, Ziva, something is pushing against your back." He turns to Tony, who is tracing small circles on the back of my hand. "Now, Dad, you've seen her through to this point. As far as we know there haven't been any complications so far. But once we put up the sheet, I highly suggest you don't look past it."

"No disrespect," Tony tells him, shooting both of us a charming grin, "But, I know what it looks like."

The doctor shakes his head, letting out another small laugh. "You may think you know the anatomy but you don't. You'll be confused, amazing, and—I guarantee—very disgusted."

"Oh, no…Dr. Steinman, I was referring to the childbirth process…Human Sexuality in college." My partner winces. "Probably not the best class to take on a full stomach sometimes."

Dr. Steinman smiles and checks his pager. "Well, we'll get you set up in here. Keep giving her ice chips, and then I'll come back in about fifteen minutes and we'll get the ball rolling!" Clasping his hands together in front of him, he winks. "You're in good hands, Ziva. This is a scary moment in your life but you're ready for it." With that, he rolls away from the bed, stands, and leaves the room.

I glance up at Tony, partly in fear and partly in excitement. We decided to just raise the child ourselves. I have seen the risks of setting up an adoption opportunity after birth. Once you actually go through labor, dispel the child from you, and hold him or her, the bond between you has already been created. Or, perhaps it would be better to phrase it as 'reinforced,' since the second conception begins, you are bonded together and the emotions just grow stronger as the pregnancy progresses. And while I do not know the gender, since we decided to wait, I am already attached.

"You're doing great, Zeev," he murmurs, and kisses my head. "Another hour or so and you'll be a mom."

"I am already a mother."

"In theory, yeah, but I mean …" At my warning stare, he quickly silences himself instead focuses his attention on scooping me another glass of ice chips. "Here you go."

"Hooo," I breathe, closing my eyes. I feel a shift in my stomach followed by acute pressure to my lower spine and grip Tony's hand.

We are in it for the long run. Haul? Run. OW.

She thinks she looks like shit…but she looks beautiful to me. Absolutely gorgeous. The fact that she's bringing my child into the world…I can't even imagine.

I am speechless as the entire process takes place. Lots of pushing, lots of bone-crushing hand-holding, and, of course, the usual screaming. I feel horrible and wish some of the pain could've been alleviated somehow, but there's nothing I can do.

It's a girl. A bloody…purple-esque…goopy little girl. My little girl. No; our little girl. Ziva's and my little girl. I blink and sniff away tears as she's handed to Ziva, who cradles the baby as though it were second nature. And, in a way, I suppose it is second nature. Maternal instinct and all.

Then, when she's taken away, Ziva makes the typical signs of protest; glare, whimpers, repeated usage of the word 'but' and of course the outstretched arms.

"We're just going to clean her up and give her right back. Promise," the same nurse from before tells Ziva, smiling. "You did a great job, sweetie. But now you should probably get a bit of sleep, too." While I can tell my partner wants anything but sleep, her eyes droop and her head falls back onto the pillow. She is sound asleep in a matter of seconds.

I just sit there in complete awe, staring at the woman who just delivered my daughter, and who would be raising her for the rest of our lives.

Fifteen minutes later, Nurse Mindy comes back in with our baby and, seeing that Ziva is dead to the world, encourages me to hold her. I hesitantly agree and, after much reassurance from Mindy that I'm not going to drop her or her neck isn't going to snap, I settle back into the chair and stare down into the face of my child.

Her eyes flutter open and sparkling blue eyes stare up at me. Granted, her eyes may in fact be brown. But I remember reading something in a book that Abby bought Ziva about genetics that said all babies are born with blue eyes, and then they change to whatever gene they've got in their DNA. I silently pray that her eyes are brown, like Ziva's.

But when Baby's baby blues lock with mine, my breath is taken away and all conscious thought ceases. She's so beautiful, in every way. And the fact that she was created from one cell—or, rather, two ingredients forming one mass cell—makes her that much more incredible. Just the fact she's both of us combined…I can see so much of Ziva's face in her tiny one, especially the nose and mouth. And the thick brown-black hair on her precious little head is enough to tell me she'll be a bit of a handful someday.

Baby blinks up at me and then yawns. I shift my arms slightly and wince, assuming she will start crying. Instead, she just raises her eyebrows at me. I can't suppress my chuckle. "Oh, Baby, you are your mother's child, aren't you?" I whisper, running my hand gently over her hair.

"Part you, too, DiNozzo," Gibbs raspy voice says from behind me. I turn just my head to look up at him.

"Hey, Boss," I say, keeping my voice just as low as before.

"Ziva's out." He walks around the bed and stands next to our teammate on the other side.

I nod. "She's had a tough day."

"Yup."

"She was a trooper, though."

"I can imagine."

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo?"

"Her name's Carmyn. Or, at least, it was when we were talking about names. It's Hebrew, but it kind of sounds Italian."

"Perfect combination," Gibbs says, nodding and brushing a stray lock of hair off of Ziva's forehead. "How long's she gonna be out?"

I shrug. "Twelve weeks."

"Well, she can't bring her to work." He stares down at Ziva and lets out a soft sigh. "So, if you ever need help, just call." Gibbs blinks a couple of times—in quick succession, so I know he's trying not to remember Kelly—and then looks up at me. "We all want to help, Tony."

Smiling, I reply, "Thanks. It's been quite the ride, hasn't it?" He nods. A thought strikes me. "I'm moving in with Ziva for a little while, just to help out."

"Her house baby-proofed?"

"Yep. I went through with Ducky a few days ago and went a little nuts with the locks and gates and stuff." I catch Carmyn staring at me and kiss her forehead. "It's so weird. I always dreaded having children, and now here I am, holding my newborn daughter."

"Kind of unreal, isn't it?" Gibbs agrees, taking a seat in the chair next to me. "And, it's with Ziva." I just smile. "Your arms tired, DiNozzo?"

I nod, kind of surprised at how heavy Carmyn is. "Yeah, actually…I should probably give her back to the nu—" I'm cut off when Gibbs gently takes her from my arms and cradles her in his. "—rse."

There's a softness to Gibbs that I haven't seen in a while. But there's not a doubt in my mind, even when he's pissed beyond belief, that he would have been an amazing father.

A/N: The end of another chapter. It kind of makes me sad. Oh well. Thank you for reading. Reviews are lovely! Love, Kat

PS: The term 'leazeazel' means 'Damn!' in Hebrew.
PSS: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. -Z
PSSS: Hush little baby, don't say a word. Daddy's gonna buy you...an old T-Bird...Yeah, that works. -T