I will not be afraid.
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February
Tony groans loudly as he steps into the apartment, stamping his feet to get the snow off his shoes before kicking them into the corner. He glances around, confused, as he sheds his backpack and coat. Ziva is usually sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table with papers and textbooks strewn everywhere when he gets home. Tonight, there is no sign of schoolwork and no sign of her. All the lights in the living room are off. He checks his watch. No, it's not any later than he thought it was.
"Ziva?" he calls, starting toward their bedroom. He knows she's here; he parked next to the sedan she bought after selling her convertible last fall. Even so, he exhales in relief when he finds her curled up on top of the covers, a sleepy smile on her face. "Hey."
"Hello."
"Taking the night off?"
She hums in the affirmative. "I went to class this morning, but that was all I had the energy for."
"Are you feeling okay?" Tony asks. Putting off her work is not like her. She enjoys school more than anybody he's ever met before. To see her in bed so early, apparently with no intention of offering up some factoid like she normally does, is a bit worrisome. He tosses aside his suit jacket, loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt so the collar is no longer choking him, and sprawls out beside her. "I hope that stomach bug's not back."
"I am fine, Tony. Very fine, in fact."
Something in her tone causes him to look over at her. She is biting her lip, staring at him intently. He turns onto his side and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He is confused; the only thing he can do is ask, "What do you mean?"
Ziva covers his hand with both of hers and cradles it against her chest. Her eyelids drop, long lashes resting against her cheeks. Something has happened; something has changed. He waits to be clued in. She remains silent. Just as he is about to prompt her again, she moves their intermingled fingers down to her stomach and opens her eyes.
"After my class, I had a doctor's appointment," she says. "We… are going to have a baby."
Tony feels his jaw drop open of its own accord, and he flits his gaze down to where their hands reside. "You're…"
It doesn't seem real. He has imagined this moment a million times before. Having a family with her used to be his greatest desire, though unattainable; since they've begun their relationship, it became someday.
He is having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that their someday has arrived.
There are so many questions running through his brain. The first one that gets out is, "You went to the doctor?"
"Yes."
"So you suspected?"
"I am sorry I did not tell you," Ziva says, sounding genuinely so. "When I was getting sick a few weeks ago, I did think it was only a virus. Then I missed my period. I waited until I was certain because I was afraid of getting your hopes up. I… I wasn't even sure a pregnancy was possible, with all the abdominal wounds I have sustained over the years…"
"But you are," he confirms, pressing his palm against her belly button. Dear God. His kid is in there. "You are, and you're okay, and the baby's okay?"
Ziva nods. The happiness in her face is a perfect reflection of how he feels right now. If he weren't so enamored with this woman in front of him, the one who is to be the mother of his child, he would be running outside, whooping and hollering into the cold winter's night. "There is a risk of complications, but yes- I was examined, and they think I will be able to carry the baby to term."
This whole thing is unexpected- a curveball, for sure. A billion decisions will have to be made within the next nine months. They'll have to move; they'll have to buy furniture; they'll have to figure out how to reconcile their schedules with their family. But there is plenty of time for all that, and he has faith that everything will be okay. After all, the two of them are certainly no strangers to perseverance.
For now, Tony just buries his face in Ziva's neck and whispers, "Thank you."
She laughs at him, but a second later, a tear of hers falls against his cheek.
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"Tony," Ziva hisses from her spot on the ultrasound table. "Put those down!"
Ignoring her demand, Tony turns around, holding up the foam fallopian tubes that had been lying out on the counter. "I think these guys lost their uterus."
"You are such an idiot." She does not mean to snap, but she is too grumpy to apologize. Her pregnancy thus far has been mostly manageable. There have been a few bad days, though, and this has been one of them. She woke up vomiting, ignored Tony's suggestion that she stay home from school, and ended up having to flee to the bathroom in the middle of class. Despite it being three o'clock in the afternoon, she's exhausted. All she wants to do is go home and fall into bed.
Tony puts down his toy and comes to her side. Gone is his silly demeanor; as he picks up her hand and kisses her knuckles, he is all concern. "Sorry," he says. "I'm kind of nervous."
She glances down at her stomach. The bump there, though slight, is more noticeable than she was led to believe it would be at only ten weeks. "So am I," she admits.
He sinks into a chair next to the table. Her arm is lying beside her; he lays his head down on it, nestling into the crook of her elbow. Ziva reaches up to run her fingers through his hair. The moment is decidedly intimate, and they stay like that, no words necessary, until the doctor finally arrives.
After being introduced to Tony ("Toby, right?") and reviewing Ziva's symptoms, the middle-aged woman pushes Ziva's shirt up and spreads gel on her belly. Ziva barely refrains from cringing at the chill of it.
"Ready?" the doctor asks, grabbing her probe. Ziva nods as Tony quickly kisses her shoulder.
Black and white shapes soon appear on the ultrasound screen. She squints and waits for a moment of clarity, for maternal instinct to kick in and tell her what it is she's looking at, but she cannot make sense of it.
"Where's the head?" Tony asks.
The doctor chuckles lowly and looks away from the screen. "Actually, Mr. DiNozzo," she says, "there are two."
Ziva lifts her shoulder blades off the table in order to stare. "What?"
"What?" Tony echoes.
Suddenly, she understands what she is seeing.
There is one head.
And there is the other.
"When we ran your tests, I told you that your hCG levels were high," the doctor tells Ziva. "That can be indicative of twins. Not always, though."
Twins.
Vaguely, she remembers the conversation in question. The possibility of multiples was mentioned briefly and offhandedly; she paid it little mind. She was too busy worrying about how hospitable an environment her uterus would be, how Tony would react to the surprise. Now she sees that she was foolish. She has only just begun getting used to the idea of her and Tony morphing into a family of three. All along, they were to be four.
"Ziva," the doctor says, touching her leg lightly, "this changes things a bit. Twins carry more risk than regular pregnancies, and with your history, we are going to have to monitor you closely."
A new stab of fear tears through her. Tony's grip on her hand tightens just a bit. She looks at him, then at her doctor. "Are they going to be alright?"
"Everything looks great now," the doctor assures her. "There are preventative measures we can take. But problems could still arise, and we will only be able to deal with them at that time."
Ziva only realizes she's crying when moisture begins to gather in her ears. She tilts her head to the right so she can see Tony. He brushes her hair out of her face. "Hey. It's okay. Didn't you hear her? Nothing's wrong. It's an if, not a when."
She hears him, but she has not been in control of her hormones lately. Being told that she is carrying two babies instead of one, that the past she tried so hard to escape could still hurt her children, does not help; she is completely overwhelmed. When the doctor leaves, saying that she's going to give the two of them a moment, Ziva is incapable of forming a response. She covers her mouth, embarrassed.
Tony sits on the edge of the table and tugs her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. Her belly is still bare; she cannot find the physical strength to cover it back up.
"Listen to me," he says softly. "I know it's hard. Hearing her say that there could be issues… I'm scared, too, Ziva."
"I know you are," she manages, gasping. "I'm being stupid, I am sorr-"
"Don't say you're sorry." He gently pushes her back and looks into her face. She wonders what she looks like in this moment- if she appears half as flustered as he does. "Ziva, you've gotta stop blaming yourself. You have every right to be upset right now, and if-" His voice catches a little; he clears his throat. "If something does go wrong, that won't be your fault, either." Leaning down, he presses his forehead against hers. "We're going to do everything in our power to make sure our babies are healthy," he whispers. Both of his hands come to rest on her tiny bump. Ziva grabs his forearms, holds tightly to them. He pauses, then leans forehead to brush her lips with his. "Ziva?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"No matter what happens, promise me we'll still have each other."
She tries to communicate her intent to stay by his side with a strong, confident kiss, but her jaw shakes, and she knows he can feel it. "Of course we will," she murmurs.
It's the only thing she can say for certain right now.
Disclaimer for this chapter and the next one: I did probably… thirty minutes of research, total, about this medical stuff. If anything's wrong, please try to overlook it. I've never been pregnant; I'm completely reliant on outside sources.
Also, there is one more chapter and then an epilogue : )