A/N: Here is part two. Have a fabulous day! I know I will ;)
Tony's jaw drops. There, sitting before him, is an almost exact replica of Cassie, but with his hair and eyes. "Very nice to meet you, Amanda," he mumbles, before pulling out Cassie's seat for her. He then takes his own and sips on the glass of ice water in front of him.
There is an awkward silence.
"So … Tony, how was your day?"
"Pretty stressful, actually." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Tony realizes how they sounded. "The case we're working is pretty crazy and my boss is angry."
Cassie's face tells him everything he needs to know. "And you now have a fourteen-year-old daughter." Though she is smiling, Tony can tell she is hurt.
"The more the merrier, right?" He tries to smile back at her but fails, knowing it's reflecting as a grimace or sneer. "Look, I'm really bad at this." Although the comment is directed at Cassie, Amanda pipes in.
"It's okay, Tony! I thought I was some sort of test-tube baby. It's awkward for me to meet you, but I mean, hey, now my friends have a hot guy to talk about, right?"
She's so much like me… "Yeah, right." He shoots her a grin before asking, "What are you getting?"
He expects Amanda's mouth to settle into a thin line like her mother's as she reads the menu, but he is surprised to see her brow furrow and her lips gently purse, much like his. When she looks up, Tony is taken aback at how familiar her expression really is. "I think I'm getting the Chicken Marsala."
"Atta girl!" Tony lets out a bark of laughter before stating, "That's what I'm getting. Which leaves … the salmon in brown butter for Miss Cassie? Unless her tastes have changed." He was going to add, Since having a baby…but he thought that would sound harsh.
"I am far too predictable," Cassie says through laughter, visibly relaxing.
"So, Amanda, are you into —"
"Sports. Give me basketball and football any day." The girl sips on her hot tea before muttering bitterly, "None of that stupid dress-up and prance-around-a-stage stuff for me." Tony raises an eyebrow and fights off a smirk.
"Favorite teams?"
"Ohio State for basketball…" Tony cheers internally. "…and Purdue for football."
"What?" Tony blurts. "No, Cassie, this cannot be our child." He is obviously joking, and neither of the women take him too seriously. "Purdue? Really?"
"They're hot."
Oh. That explains it. Cheerleaders aren't too bad, either.
"Tony, I know this is all so sudden," Cassie abruptly declares, "but would you mind taking a DNA test?"
Stunned, Tony's jaw tenses a bit. "Uh … like, a paternity test?" She nods. "I thought you were positive I was the…"
"It's kind of like Luke and his daughter on Gilmore Girls," Amanda jumps in. "It's just a little experiment."
Tony's eyes narrow but he attempts to appear good-natured. "How big are we talking here?" He lets what he hopes is a smile spread across his face.
"It's between you and one other guy right now. My hypothesis is that you will be the positive match." There is a gleam to Amanda's pretty blue eyes that reminds Tony of a green-eyed goddess.
We have another Abby Sciuto on our hands. Make no promises that you cannot keep. Make no promises you cannot—
"You know, my coworker has a love interest with forensics," Tony states despite his thoughts, stabbing a piece of chicken. "I should talk to her and see if she can get you in to see her lab. You'd have a heart attack."
"You're kidding!" Amanda says, deadpan. When Tony makes no effort to backtrack and just nods, she squeals, "That's awesome, Tony! Thanks!", drawing several dirty looks from nearby diners. "
Tony can just smile and hope that everything turns out okay.
The Vogler case was closed by the end of that week, but it was especially rough on Tony because, as with any father—and Gibbs was no exception to this—would, seeing the pictures of young, dead, fifteen-year-old female rape victims is difficult.
Vogler had admitted to the rapes of all ten girls—including two six-year-olds—with the statement of, 'They're all just so beautiful.'
Tony had wanted to puke, because looking at him, up from every picture, was Amanda's face, and from the victims' families, Cassie and his own faces. Half of him wanted to run and hug Amanda but, knowing he would probably only succeed in freaking her out, he had resisted. He had, however, decided to call Cassie and ask about Amanda, purely out of 'curiosity.'
Since knowing he may have a daughter, things for him had changed remarkably. No more one-night-stands, no more ogling every woman who walked into the building, and definitely no more flirting with Ziva. Tony had expected it to be difficult, but now he can shove lascivious thoughts aside completely, with no feelings of loss or guilt.
Hopefully, his life would stay this way.
Three weeks, eight secret dinners, and a cotton swab later, Tony is sitting at his desk, preparing a picture frame to hold the face of his new fourteen-year-old baby girl.
"What is that for?" Ziva murmurs, suddenly leaning over his shoulder. "Or, should I ask, who?"
Brushing dust off of the glass, Tony sets the frame on his desk and smiles, "Remember that special bank?"
"Uh … yes. The one you donated to so that you could 'beautify the Earth'?"
"Yes, Miss Davíd, that's the one," he sneers.
Ziva says nothing, but stands up and crosses the cubicle to her own desk and sits down. She is either ignoring the situation, or ignoring Tony. Either way, her set jaw shows she is determined to not allow him the enjoyment of upsetting her.
The phone rings and Ziva's eyes snap to it, then to Tony's. "You had better answer that. It may be your 'special bank.'" Though her tone is harsh, she is looking at him with softness in her brown irises.
Although Tony does not respond, he gives her a small smile. The chemistry between them has become one-sided over the past few weeks as Tony has been preparing to become a real father, unlike his own, to Amanda. While Tony's pulled away, he's noticed Ziva hanging around him more, but not in an annoying way. In more of a 'little sister' brand of nosiness. It reminds him of when he was with Jeanne Benoit, but he can't bring himself to mention her, especially to Ziva, of all people.
Maybe she has matured. Or maybe he has. Either way, things have changed.
And now the ringing phone will tell him his fate.
"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, speaking," he murmurs. McGee saunters past with a briefcase and a coffee, shooting him a curious a look and an even more curious look at Ziva, who is staring at Tony with an utmost wistful expression on her face.
"Tony, it's Cassie."
And it's in those three words that Tony knows the truth.
She feels horrible. She really does, knowing that she's just sent the poor man jumping over hurdles and getting his cheek swabbed and taking her daughter—and who she thought was also his daughter—out to dinner all the time…
Just to find out it isn't even his kid.
"I'm so sorry, Tony," Cassie sighs into the phone. "I swear, you were the only missing link I could think of. This was really horrible of me."
There is silence on the line and people speaking in the background, but nothing comes from Tony himself. "Tony?"
I don't blame him for hating me.
Ziva can tell by the way Tony has his eyes closed and his lower lip has pulled down slightly that he has received bad news. From the bank? From his father? From who?
She had been kidding about the sperm bank. Only kidding.
Her computer makes a noise and, when she looks, McGee has sent her an instant message.
Elf Lord: What's going on with our Senior Agent?
Making shifty eyes between Tony and McGee, Ziva quickly shrugs and, though intending to reply, does not.
There is nothing she can do to help him this time. There is not guilt on his face, but more heartbreak. Does he even have a girlfriend?
"No, Cassie, I—I completely understand. It was a mistake." But he doesn't understand. There are several things he doesn't understand but the first and foremost is how something like this could have happened.
Why did he even care that Amanda wasn't his daughter? Did it really matter? It's not like Tony had been planning to get down on one knee and marry Cassie, anyway. That wasn't how he was going to deal with it at all. He was just going to be there for his daughter like his father had never been there for him, and hope for the best. What more could he have done?
"I don't blame you if you hate me, Tony." There is a muffled voice coming from the other line that sounds similar to Amanda's pitch, and there is no doubt in Tony's mind that she's just as upset as he and her mother are. "No, Amanda, it's not a good—Here, Tony." He can tell the phone is being shuffled to Amanda and is not surprised when her cheerful optimism channels through the receiver.
"Tony, I just wanted to say that if you had been my dad, you would have been a great one. You made the effort and went the distance and just because you aren't my biological daddy, you'd might as well sign on for it. Because Gerald Stone—whoever that is—told mom he didn't want to hear from her again, and—Mom, stop, I'm telling Tony. He deserves to know!—and therefore I think I should just focus on you." A beat. "Tony?"
His words are thick in his throat as he says, "Yeah, kid. O'course." But he knows how it's really going to go down. They'll stay in contact for a few months—maybe even less than that, a few weeks or so—and then they'd each just stop talking. It wouldn't be mutual and it wouldn't be angry or bitter. Lives would just have to continue and that's the way it would have to go.
Tony doesn't realize his eyes have been closed until he opens them and sees Ziva staring straight at him, empathy teeming in her brown orbs.
"I'm going to write you a letter every week telling you what's going on, okay? Even when I'm, like, seventy."
This draws a chuckle from him, but it doesn't stop the pounding in his chest and head. "That sounds great, Amanda." He doesn't bother to remind her that he will probably be dead by the time she's seventy.
"Here's mom again."
It's like a divorce. No one knows what the other's thinking until something like this happens. And even then…Screw it.
As her daughter talks to Tony, Cassie can only look on in horror. She'd promised Tony that he had been the only one. She'd forgotten completely the night of drunken bliss, shortly after she had called off the engagement and before she had met Tony in the shoe store.
Gerald Stone, a realtor from Sunny California, spending time in Peoria on business. And unfortunately, at the time, he was pretty damn sexy. Brown hair with gold specks, blue eyes, and a defined nose. A personality to die for. And he had asked her out for drinks.
It hadn't ended there. And then Cassie had forgotten it all. When she met Tony, she was still reeling in feelings of self-doubt and anger from her stupid ex-fiancé, and her mind purged all memories of Mr. Gerald Stone.
But he was the father, through and through. No one can argue science. And although Amanda reminded Cassie undoubtedly of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo—or, as she remembered, Officer Anthony DiNozzo—there was no questioning what the DNA test showed. Regardless of what she wanted, the reality was in front of her.
Cassie knows what will happen now, and wishes Amanda would stop making promises to Tony that she cannot—or will not—keep. They will talk for a few weeks, and then Amanda will focus all of her attention on something else and forget about Tony completely. She just hopes that poor Tony will be able to handle it.
When her daughter hands the phone back, Cassie is on the verge of tears.
"Tony, before you say another word—"
"Cassie, this was just a huge misunderstanding. You've got an incredible girl on your hands. Trust me, I envy you. This pretty much sucks, but, hey, that's life, right? C'est la vie."
But Tony doesn't believe this. Not for a moment. He just knows he has to say something to keep Cassie's emotions in check.
"Oh, Tony, I am so sorry I got you involved in this…I should have thought of Gerald long before I contacted you."
"It's kind of like the movie The Switch, right? Only I'm Ronan and Gerald's Wally? It's alright. At least I wasn't about to propose." Tony forces out a laugh and hopes it sounds natural. "Anyway, Cassie, it's okay. I wish you both the best. Call me sometime and give me an update."
There is a long pause before Tony hears a quiet, "Okay, Tony. Goodbye," followed by an almost inaudible click.
Turning to Ziva, he mutters, "Never have sex with a guy and then lie about it. Not when you're with someone else. And if you do, don't have the first guy's kid." Before she can even ask, Tony's at McGee's desk with the warning of, "And you, don't ask a girl who just got out of a bad relationship to go to a boss' retirement party and then sleep with her, no matter how hot she looks, okay? Even if she's bangin', don't kiss her good night and—above all—do not spill whiskey on her dress. In fact? Don't drink at all. Stay sober at all times."
A shooting pain rips through the back of Tony's head as Gibbs walks around him. "The next piece of advice you've gotta follow is 'never get married.' Whatcha got for me?"
Back to life.
A/N: You can always trust Gibbs to pulls us all back to reality, right? I am heavily considering a sequel from Gibbsey's point of view. But who knows. :) Thanks for reading! Kat