Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be writing when I read fics by people like Sashile. Seriously, Sashile (writes Tiva!)- and several other writers I'm sad not to be able to remember the names of right now- is great, check out their (gender-neutral possessive pronoun) stuff; if you like mine, you'll love theirs. Some of these writers just put my stuff to shame, y'know? But I'll keep writing, 'cause I like it, you guys seem to like it, and I like reading your reviews even more.
And speaking of reviews, wow! Thank you all for the loveliness! We're almost to 100 on this story, that'll be a first for me as a writer. Sorry I took a while but I had other stories I needed to update as well. This and one of my other fics were receiving all the attention. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Ziva stood completely still, gaze fixed on the small white stick resting on the bathroom counter. On the tiny blue sign in the center of it.
A blue plus. 'A '+' means you're pregnant' is what the box said. Pregnant. Ziva bit her lower lip. The test weren't one hundred percent accurate...
She considered trying the second test, but remembered Tony would be waiting. She quickly stooped and stuck the box and remaining test at the back of the cabinet, hidden behind bars of soap and rolls of toilet paper.
Returning to the kitchen, she found Tony sipping a second cup of coffee and leaning against the counter, still in his boxers.
"Want some?" he asked, raising his mug.
Ziva shook her head. "Ah, no. Thank you. I will just have water." She pulled a bottle out of the fridge, twisted it open, and took a sip.
"You didn't go for a run today," he said it more as question than a statement.
She shrugged, took another sip. "I needed to go to the store."
"At six-thirty? We could've gone later."
Another shrug, another sip.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He set down his mug and stepped forward to wrap his arms around her slim waist. She spun in his embrace and tilted her head up, bringing them face to face.
"I am fine," she said. "Just tired."
Tony smiled and waggled his eyebrows. "Then maybe you should sleep in and wake up with me more often," he suggested. "There are other forms of exercise besides running."
Ziva chuckled, running an index finger down his hairy chest. "Or you could get up early and go running with me," she told him.
Tony grimaced as though she had just suggested they go skydiving off the apartment building without safety harnesses. "I'll pass, thanks."
"Suit yourself." Ziva twisted out of his arms and grabbed her water as she made her way to the living room. "And you are on your own for breakfast. I already ate."
"Humph." Tony watched her go, disappointed that she'd either ignored or missed his somewhat subtle proposition. Pulling out the new carton of milk, he grabbed a spoon, bowl, and Coco Puffs and settled in for a delicious and chocolatey breakfast.
By 0900, they had showered and dressed. While Tony was attempting to sort their dirty clothes into piles of whites, darks, and colors, Ziva was supposed to be cleaning the bathroom. 'Supposed to,' because she wasn't, really. Every time she glanced at the garbage bag sitting by the closed bathroom door, Ziva thought about the test inside it. The positive pregnancy test.
She was yanked out of her current reverie by her ringing phone and stopped her continual, unconscious scrubbing of the already clean sink faucet to pull it out of her pocket.
"David."
"Ziva, it's Abby. I'm so glad you answered! I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? We haven't had much girl time in a while, y'know? And I kind of wanted to talk to you about some things..." Abby's voice trailed off for a moment, then, "So?"
Ziva sighed, gave the garbage bag another sideways glance. While she had never been much for senseless 'girl talk,' the urge to get out of her apartment and do just that was suddenly very great and she found herself answering, "Sure, Abby."
A giddy squeal came from the other end of the line. "Great! I'll pick you up at your apartment at ten. Is that fine?"
"Yes. I will see you then, Abby. Bye." She hung up and returned the phone to her pocket, glancing at the clock. Abby would be there in forty-five minutes. That gave her just enough time to finish cleaning the bathroom and bedroom and then...
She opened the cabinet under the sink and stared at its contents. After a moment of deliberation, Ziva reached to the back and pulled out the box. The instructions were ingrained in her memory. Open the package, remove the cap, pee on the stick, wait two minutes. She did exactly this. The waiting was the hardest part.
She stared at the clock. Two minutes. Abby would be there in forty-one.
Ziva clenched her fists. Maybe looking was the hardest part. She gave it another ten seconds before turning her head.
The circular display revealed another little blue plus. Plus for positive. Plus for pregnant. It was still possible that both tests had been wrong. Wasn't it?
A knock at the bathroom door startled her and she quickly concealed the test in tissue as she had done the first one before shoving it in the garbage bag. Folding the box into a square of white and purple cardboard, she stuck it in her pocket.
"Yes?" She opened the door, revealing Tony standing on the other side.
"I'm done with the laundry. You finished in here yet? Maybe we could-"
She cut him off. "Almost. Abby called. She wants to have some 'girl time' and she is picking me up in about thirty-five minutes."
Tony frowned dejectedly. "Okay. I should probably leave before she gets here, then." When she didn't respond he continued, "I'll come back tonight? We can have dinner and a movie night."
Ziva nodded. "Yes, that sounds nice. I will cook."
"Great," he grinned. "I'll bring the movies and popcorn."
Despite the whirlwind of thoughts and restrained emotions swirling through her, some of them not so congenial, she smiled in return. She rose to her tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on his lips before grabbing the garbage bag and following him through the bedroom and down the hallway to the kitchen.
He grabbed his keys and threw her a 'DiNozzo grin.' "See ya later, Zee-vah!" he called and moments later, she heard the apartment door shut behind him.
Though she felt slightly guilty about having blown him off, it admittedly felt nice to have some time to herself for a little while. Besides, she had spent the past several days- including the previous weekend- with Tony. Maybe time with Abby would do her some good.
The knock on her door at exactly ten o'clock brought Ziva out of her now dust-free bedroom, where she had spent the last half-hour trying her utmost to avoid any thoughts on pregnancy, babies, and the like. Luckily, Tony had stored the playpen used during Lucy Colwright's stay in the hall coat closet.
She was not surprised to find a smiling, Caf-Pow!-toting Abby when she opened the door. "You are very punctual," she observed, gesturing for the eccentric Goth to come in.
"I'm just excited," Abby replied. "It's been a while."
"Yes, it has." Ziva closed the door and turned to watch Abby do a three-sixty in the center of her living room. The forensic scientist- and every other team member that wasn't Tony- had only been to her new apartment a handful of times. 'New' only because it was not, of course, the apartment that had been blown to smithereens before she left for Israel over two years ago. Thinking back on it, Ziva couldn't believe it had been so long since those few hellish and confused months away from her family at NCIS.
"It smells nice in here," Abby stated once she'd completed her spinning inspection.
"I cleaned a bit this morning," explained Ziva.
"Oh. Cool. So are you ready to go?"
Ziva nodded. "Where are we going?" she asked as she locked her apartment door behind them.
"I was thinking the mall," said Abby. "We can shop a little and then have some lunch in the food court."
Ziva shrugged as they stepped onto the elevator. "Alright. Shop for what, exactly?"
"You know, girl stuff! Ziva, you've been deprived of this for too long."
Ziva smiled. "I wouldn't call it deprived..."
"Yep, it's deprived," Abby declared, unlocking her car. "But I must say, you've come a long way since you first started at NCIS." They slid in and she started the car. "It's just good to be girly sometimes, Ziva."
Ziva chuckled. "If you say so."
"Oh, I say so."
At the mall, Abby dragged Ziva to the next clothing and shoe store. She carried one bag, containing a few pieces of clothing, and Ziva was empty-handed. "I promise, Ziva. Just one more store and then we'll take a break for lunch."
"Fine, but I-"
"Nope, I don't wanna hear it. Look!" Abby pointed. "A shoe sale!" She pulled Ziva towards a rack of boots and grabbed a black studded platform. "Aren't these great?"
Ziva shrugged. "I suppose. They look like the ones you are wearing, to me."
Abby pushed her lower lip forward in a pout. "Okay, no shoes then. Let's go look at dresses." She led Ziva to the dress section of the store.
After a few minutes of perusing the colorful selection, Abby pulled a knee-length, light green dress off a rack. It was simple, with two-inch shoulder straps leading down to an 'X' design in the chest material. She turned and pressed the dress into Ziva's hands. "You have to try this on," she commanded, spinning her towards the fitting room and giving her a light shove.
With a sigh, Ziva entered the stall and locked it. Resisting Abby would have been futile. She quickly undressed and slipped on the dress, barely giving herself a glance in the mirror before stepping out for Abby to observe.
The animated scientist grinned when Ziva emerged from the fitting room. "Ziva, that looks amazing! You have to buy it!"
Ziva looked down, picking absently at the fabric. "Where would I even wear this, Abby?"
"I don't know, a date or something. Just look!" Abby turned Ziva so she was facing a mirror attached one of the store's support beams.
In truth, Ziva did like the dress. The green was nice; it reminded her of her first undercover mission at NCIS, when she and Tony had pretended to be married assassins Sophie and Jean Paul Ranier. She liked the design as well. The material adequately hid the most visible of her scars from Somalia. Though she was not very self-conscious of these or any others, it was comforting not to have them showing because, in her experience, when people saw scars, they typically asked questions.
"So?" Abby asked hopefully.
Ziva felt the corners of her mouth tilt upward just a bit. "Alright," she acquiesced. She returned to the fitting room to change. "Though I still do not know when I'd wear it."
She emerged from the stall with the dress draped over her arm.
"You'll find a use for it someday, I'm sure," Abby said. C'mon, let's go to the register and then we can have lunch."
They ended up eating at Subway, as Ziva had rejected every other restaurant in the food court.
Ziva slowly chewed her Veggie Delite sandwich as she gazed into space thoughtfully, unaware that she had tuned out of Abby's ramblings about some famous woman she'd met at a forensics conference. Abby noticed Ziva's distant look and stopped her explanation, setting down her BLT to stare at Ziva in analytical-friend/scientist mode. "You're not listening," she pointed out.
The ex-assassin's eyes slid to Abby's. "What?"
Abby frowned. "You didn't hear a word I said. Are you okay?"
"I am sorry, Abby. I-" She paused. She what? What could she tell Abby? The girl was not exactly known for keeping things quiet. Then she remembered the box, still in her pocket. She had forgotten to recycle it after Tony left. The box. It had previously contained two pregnancy tests, both of which she'd taken. Both of which had been positive.
"Ziva? You look a little pale. You are okay, right?" Abby was worried. Ziva wasn't one to lose her composure very often.
A baby. She couldn't have a baby. She had a job that was dangerous and time-consuming and hadn't past events shown that she could barely keep herself out of trouble? How would she raise a child? She was ex-Mossad, her maternal instincts were severely lacking. Taking care of a six-month-old for two days was vastly different to raising a child for eighteen years.
"Ziva? You're killing your sandwich."
"What?" Ziva snapped out of it, looking down to see that she was, indeed, crushing the sandwich in her grip. "Oh." She set it down and accepted the napkins Abby handed her. "Thank you."
"Ziva, seriously, what's wrong with you?" Abby asked. "First you're zoned out and then you're strangling your lunch... Is it Tony?"
Ziva's head snapped up. "Tony?"
Abby let a small grin cross her face. "Yeah. McGee says he and you are sleeping together."
Ziva furrowed her brow. "McGee and I? We are not sleeping together."
"No, Ziva, you and Tony. Tim says he thinks you and Tony are together."
"He is my partner-"
"Don't give me that BS," Abby interrupted sternly. All thoughts of lunch had gone out the window. "Are you or aren't you? C'mon Ziva, friends tell each other these things."
Ziva glared. "You did not tell me you and McGee are seeing each other," she accused.
"We-" Abby blinked in surprise. "How...?"
Ziva's eyebrows rose. "McGee does not come in every other morning with that smile on his face because of just any girl."
Abby crossed her arms in surrender. "Humph. Alright, fine, but it's just a casual thing, I swear. Now," her face grew serious, "you and Tony?"
Ziva shrugged, temporary distraction from her dilemma, now over. She nervously toyed with the chunk of cardboard in her pocket. "Yes..." she answered finally. "Tony and I are sleeping together."
Abby grinned but it dropped when she realized her friend wasn't reciprocating the action.
Instead, Ziva was frowning. Thinking of Tony brought up the matter of telling him. If she WAS pregnant, how would he react? He was Tony DiNozzo, after all. She doubted one of his desires was to be saddled with a child. A child meant eighteen years of commitment, something that neither of them were particularly good at.
Ziva paled again and Abby waved a hand in front of her face. "Did you guys get in a fight or something?" she asked.
Ziva sighed. If she did not tell someone, this would drive her insane. Insane people do not make good decisions. Without a word, she pulled the box out of her pocket and slid it across the table to Abby.
The forensic scientist glanced at Ziva quizzically before reaching out to take it. She slowly unfolded the cardboard and stared at it.
"'e.p.t.'" She looked up. "A pregnancy test?"
Ziva stared at her hands, nodded.
It was as though everyone else in the mall had disappeared. The cacophony of voices, and cooking food, and screeching chairs faded as Abby asked, "Are you pregnant?"
She clasped her hands tightly, the knuckles turned white. "I might be."
Abby's jaw dropped. She did a double-take, read the box again. "Did you take the tests?"
"Yes..."
"And?"
Ziva closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "Both were positive."
Abby didn't allow herself to become excited just yet. "But you're still not sure? What made you think you were pregnant in the first place?"
"Morning sickness," Ziva mumbled. "For the past two days."
The perky Goth took a deep, calming breath. "We can go to my lab? Do a blood test," she offered. "If it would make you feel better."
Somehow they did end up at NCIS on a Saturday, in Abby's lab. While Ziva pressed a ball of cotton to her inner elbow, Abby placed a vial of blood in the mass spectrometer.
"It will only take a minute," she assured her.
True to Abby's word, the computer dinged not long after. Ziva watched expectantly as the scientist called up the results and looked them over. When Abby at last turned around and spoke, there was an underlying note of excitement in her voice that Ziva couldn't seem to feel herself.
"There are elevated levels of human chorionic gonadotropin in your blood," Abby proclaimed.
Ziva had a gut feeling that 'elevated levels' did not mean everything was perfectly normal.
"HCG is a hormone that stimulates the production of estrogen and progesterone," she continued. "Its presence in blood and urine is an indicator of pregnancy."
Ziva remained silent, nodding slowly. Abby waited, but someone who mainlines caffeine can only hold their composure for so long.
"Okay, Ziva, I know you're still kind of absorbing this and all but I just want to tell you that I'm really excited. I mean, it's the first ever NCIS baby! And the fact that it's yours and Tony's makes it so much better because that baby is going to be so cute!" Abby paused to breathe. "It is Tony's, right?"
"Yes... Abby... How am I going to take care of a baby? Tony... Well, he is Tony. And Gibbs-" Ziva said what Abby assumed to be a Hebrew expletive. "He is going to kill me."
Abby stepped forward, pulling the distraught agent into a bone-crushing hug. "The bossman won't kill you," she assured. "He might be angry, he might give you and Tony a hundred head-slaps, but he won't kill you. And Tony? He'll be happy about it if he knows what's good for him."
Ziva chuckled, wrapping her arms around Abby to return the embrace. "Thank you, Abby."
"No problem, Ziva. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me as long as you want to keep it."
"I- Thank you. Again." Ziva smiled as they pulled away, eyes shifting to the computer. "Pregnant," she whispered in disbelief.
"You should tell Tony," advised Abby. "He needs to know."
She'd decided to make baked chicken ziti with spinach and a garden salad in a light vinaigrette dressing. Just as she stuck the pasta in the oven, there was a knock at her door.
Tony was there, wearing the same clothes he'd left in that morning, a stack of DVDs and a pack of microwave popcorn in his hands.
"Hey," he greeted, stepping past her into the apartment.
"Hi."
She followed him into the living room and he set the DVDs on the coffee table. Then he turned, stepping forward and pulling her into a deep kiss. They stopped only after they'd surpassed the need for oxygen.
"How was girl time with Abby?" he breathed, green eyes shining.
"It was good," she replied. She spun on her heel and strode into the kitchen. "And your day alone?"
"Oh, wonderful," Tony quipped. He sniffed the air as his stomach rumbled. "Smells great in here."
"Thank you. I am making baked ziti."
"Great. Pasta is an Italian staple." He patted his gut fondly, a proud grin on his face.
Ziva chuckled. "Of course it is. I can tell it's one of your favorites," she teased, reaching out to smack his stomach lightly.
"Hey," he frowned. "Just for that, I'm not letting you have any of this popcorn." He stuck the package in the back pocket of his jeans.
Ziva wrinkled her nose. "I do not want any of it, now."
The oven timer buzzed and she pulled on oven mitts to retrieve the ziti. She placed the pan on top of the stove and removed the mitts so she could grab the salad out of the fridge, then put both on the table. Tony took out plates and silverware and set the table before grabbing cups and filling them with ice water. Sitting down, they dished their food, Tony serving himself nearly double the amount of pasta Ziva had.
Dinner was rather uneventful, filled only with the sounds of clanking dishes and occasional comments on recent cases. Once they'd finished, the leftovers were packed away and the dishes cleaned.
After changing into more comfortable clothing- sweats and a tank top for Ziva, sweats and an OSU shirt for Tony- the two collapsed onto the couch.
"I picked a few movies for us to choose from," Tony told her, spreading out the selection. He'd gone with black and whites. "Some of the best of all time," he said. Manhattan, Casablanca, and 12 Angry Men. "Have your pick."
Ziva shrugged, tapped the case for Manhattan.
"Great choice." She rolled her eyes. He would have said the same no matter what she'd chosen. "1957 film starring the great Henry Fonda. Drama, mystery." He waggled his eyebrows and stood to put the disc in the DVD player. "Nominated for three Oscars."
"Sounds fantastic, Tony," Ziva deadpanned, stretching her legs out in Tony's vacated spot. He tossed her the remote, which she deftly caught.
"Get it started. I'll go make the popcorn."
She did, navigating to the disc menu before laying back and closing her eyes.
Abby had told her to tell him. But when? Tonight? Tomorrow? She had a feeling that waiting would only serve to stress her out even more. And she hated procrastinating. So she would tell him tonight. Soon.
Tony returned with a plastic bowl full of popcorn in one hand and two beer bottles clanking in the other. She sat up, eyed the alcohol, and sighed. Really soon.
He placed the bowl on the table and proffered her a beer as he sat down.
"Ah, no thank you." She kept her hands firmly clasped in her lap.
"No? You always drink beer with me."
"Not tonight." Ziva stared into her lap. "Actually, I need to talk to you about something."
"Okay." Tony set down the beers, turning to face her. "What?"
"Tony, I-" Ziva froze. It was all happening too quickly. She had always prided herself on her good forethought, on her ability to suppress all emotions in order to persevere through any situation. But this was not a situation she had ever been trained to handle.
Tony stared, waiting for Ziva to continue and scrutinizing like any good investigator does. Her eyes were dark and round, her body rigid. She looked like a cornered animal and it both shocked and worried him to see her this way.
"Ziva... What?"
Bum bum bum. To tell him, or not to tell him? That is the question that I have the answer to and you WANT the answer to. Guess you'll just have to wait for me to actually write the chapter. Anywho, thanks for reading and I hope the characters weren't wildly OOC! Reviews make me a happy writer! ;)
Oh and if you want to see what the green dress Ziva bought looks like, there's a link to it on my profile. And of course, I don't own NCIS or the films mentioned in this chapter.