"No, if I say it, it's real."
"It's real either way."
"I know that."
"But you're in denial?"
"Yes," she nods.
"How long have you been in denial?"
"Long enough," she admits.
"So when..."
"August Third."
"The middle of the summer?"
"It is going to be miserable."
"Yeah," Abby agrees.
"You should probably practice saying it."
"To who?"
"You can practice saying it to me," Abby offers.
"Ok," Ziva agrees.
"Just say it."
"But if I say it I can't take it back."
"You can't take it back either way. You not saying it, isn't going to make it go away. You know that, right?"
"Yes I know that."
"So just say it."
"I'm pregnant," she utters.
"That wasn't so bad was it?"
"I would rather be interrogated than have to tell someone that."
"Why?"
"Because they get all doe-eyed, and gooey, and they don't want you to do too much. And then they start treating you like an invalid."
"They will not."
"Yes, they will."
"So what?"
"I don't like being treated like an invalid. I am a perfectly capable individual. I can take care of myself. I can protect myself. I can carry my own stuff."
"I can't believe that you're having a baby."
"You can't believe it?"
"What do you want, and don't tell me that you don't care just as long as it's healthy, because that's a bunch of bull-crap."
"I have no preference, because I am equally ignorant on how to take care of either one."
"You should tell Tony."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to. He's... he's the same person he's always been. He's not going to be able to handle this."
"At least give him the chance."
"I can't. Abby, I'm ok with getting hurt. I've learned how to deal with that, but this is different. It isn't just me."
"You can tell Gibbs that we got a match."
Tony paces around the squad room. Gibbs watches him from his desk.
"DiNozzo, you have a problem?"
"Sorry boss. I just have a lot on my mind."
"Maybe you should stop being an idiot about it."
"Meaning?"
"Rules are not always hard and fast, sometimes they are meant to be broken. Sometimes there are worth being broken."
"Boss?" Tony throws him a confused look.
"Tell her the truth."
"What are you talking about boss?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
"But..."
"We'll deal with it," Gibbs answers before Tony can finish.
"Are you sure?"
"You better tell her soon."
"Why?"
"Because if you don't, you're going to lose her."
"How can you tell? Your gut?"
"It's more than my gut," he answers.
"Care to enlighten me?"
"No, figure it out on your own."
"How?"
"First off, stop being an idiot."
"I'll try."
"Try harder."
"Ok," Tony agrees.
"Not here," Gibbs clarifies.
"Right boss," he nods.
The elevator dings, and Abby, and Ziva look up. They find Tony coming into the lab.
"Abby can you give us a minute?" Ziva questions.
"Of course," Abby nods in agreement, going into her office, closing the door behind her.
"It smells like vomit in her," Tony remarks.
"That's probably because you're standing next to a trash can full of vomit."
"Why? Who blew chunks?"
"That would be me."
"You? You have a cast iron stomach. Nothing makes you sick. What's going on?"
"Tony..."
"Yes, Ziva?"
"I need to tell you something."
"What's that?"
She stands up. "Have a seat," she offers him the stool.
"What's wrong?" he questions.
"Take a seat," she replies.
He complies. "What's going on?"
"I don't really know how to say what I need to tell you. I don't think that there is any easy, or right way to do it. I don't know how to make it any less than what it is. I just know that you should know. I don't know if I really want you to know, but you have the right to know. I don't really know what I want I just..."
"Know this isn't it?" he finishes for her.
"Exactly."
"So what is? What do you want to tell me? Are you sick? Are you terminally ill?"
"No, I'm not terminally ill."
"So why do you have that look on your face?"
"What look?" she inquires.
"A look that says you're about to completely throw me into a tailspin."
"Because I am," she admits.
"How? What's going on? Is it something that I can fix?"
"You can't fix it."
"Can it be fixed?"
"No. It's something that will resolve itself."
"It will resolve itself?"
"Yes, it takes about nine months, but then it resolves itself."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
She takes a deep breath, "I'm pregnant," she admits.
