A/N: Okay, this is super short. Like 443 words short -but, I think this little resolution deserves its own little mini-chapter. And there is a little sweet spot in here too and tomorrow's fluff is major so you aren't totally deprived. :^) Much love, until tomorrow, Kit.

DISCLAIMER: Let me ask you this: If I owned anything, would I need a disclaimer?

Neshema Sheli

Week 17, July

"Good afternoon, Ms. David, Mr. DiNozzo," Dr. Rush smiles warmly as she greets them, closing the door behind her as she enters the room.

The tension in the air is palpable and so thick it could be sliced with the proverbial knife and the good doctor's first instinct is to ask what it is that has the couple so on edge. And then she remembers the file she has clutched in her hand and the mystery resolves itself with the realization.

"The baby is fine," she states simply, taking a seat on her stool at the foot of the bed on which Ziva perches. The room itself seems to take a collective sigh of relief and the apprehension dissipates immediately. "You were worried," and it isn't a question.

Ziva remains silent and Tony gives a curt nod and though the ghost of a smile is flickering across his lips, he still has not released Ziva's hand. "Just a bit," he admits weakly.

Having pity on the pair, Dr. Rush continues to speak, her voice almost reassuring as she explains her findings, "No signs of Tay-Sachs or Thalassaemia or hemophilia or other nasty anomalies. Everything looks good. So you can take a deep breath, Mom, your sea-monkey is fine." Ziva's mouth quirks up at the reference of the OB-GYN's pet name for the baby. "So . . . . How about we see what's going on in there?"

And Ziva comes alive, nodding as she scoots back and lies down obediently as the doctor moves about in preparation for the ultrasound. . . .

Two minutes later and the familiar sound of a rapid and strong pulse fills the silence and it's almost as if the baby is trying to reinforce the fact that it is absolutely wonderful.

"Can you tell what the sex is?" Ziva asks quietly, dark eyes never straying from the screen where a clearly defined silhouette has taken up residence.

Dr. Rush smiles, shifting the wand around her patient's abdomen, searching briefly for a certain indicative part of anatomy . . . . "You sure you want to know?"

"Yes," and it is an answer given in unison as both parents' interests are piqued.

"Okay then . . . . There's your daughter."

Tony swallows audibly, murmuring softly, "It's a girl."

"Neshema sheli," Ziva breathes, vision blurring.

And Tony thinks that there surely must be a God because there exists living proof of angels.