Hey guys. Thank you so much for the amazing reviews (and really sorry to end it like that!)
Anyway, here's the new chapter. It's bit longer than last time. I'm not sure if you'll like it or not, but here you go.
Tony lay in bed, looking out of the open curtains at the moon. It was huge and glowing and it looked like if he just stretched out his fingers a little, he could touch it. It looked like he could hold in the palm of his hand, like a paper weight or a tennis ball, and throw it in the air and roll it round the floor and then hang it back in the sky and nobody would be any the wiser. Unless, of course, there was anyone else who couldn't sleep at three in the morning and was staring at the moon as well.
Kate shifted slightly beside him, and a chunk of hair fell over her face. She murmured – maybe a content sigh, maybe a reaction to some dream that was plaguing her – and Tony stroked the hair away from her face.
"Shh," he soothed, as she twitched her nose at his touch and whimpered slightly. "It's only me."
She mumbled softly, unconsciously turning her head towards his hand like a kitten nuzzling its owner, and he gently ran his hand over her forehead. Tony trailed his hand down away from Kate's face and rested it on her stomach. Slipping his hand under the thin cotton of her t-shirt, Tony tugged it up so it bunched around the bottom of her ribcage and placed his hand over her stomach. Kate twitched slightly as he brushed her waist, but didn't move. Tony smiled to himself in the darkness as he felt Kate's stomach rise and fall as she breathed. Under his thumb, he could feel the slight thrumming of a pulse near Kate's hip. He knew it was impossible, but he could imagine it was the heartbeat of their baby. It was a nice thought.
Sighing heavily, Tony eased himself away from Kate and crept out of the bed, making sure she was still covered by the duvet, before making his way to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. Sipping it carefully and looking around the kitchen, he noticed the glasses that were still left out from when he'd made Kate drink all that water earlier on, and the half-eaten sandwich still sitting on the plate on the table. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd sat at that table eating that sandwich, before Kate came in and said she needed to speak to him. He supposed that, in a way, it was a lifetime ago.
When they got the results of the pregnancy test, Kate had cried. A lot. Tony's watch had beeped, signifying the end of the four minutes, and he had waited as patiently as one could in that situation until he could bear it no longer and had gone into the bathroom, where he had found Kate sitting on the floor. She had asked him to read her the results, because she was too scared to look, and, sensing that now was not the time to upset Kate's delicate emotional state by making a joke about not wanting to touch a used pregnancy test, he had read her the result. Then she cried. First, she stayed on the floor and cried into her knees. Then, when her shoulders had stopped shaking and her gasping had stopped, Tony had crouched down next to her and she'd fallen against his chest and sobbed again. It took a good ten minutes before she was capable of forming a comprehensible sentence. And then she'd cried again, when they were sitting in the living room and Tony pointed out that people would have to be told, plans put in place. She cried when he asked her if she wanted a boy or a girl, and when he said that he wasn't naming it after a fruit or the place it was conceived or anything else ridiculous, and she cried when he had said they could move into a proper house together, 'with other kids next door, and a garden and a swing set and a golden retriever called Jethro'. She cried when he kissed her stomach and whispered 'goodnight baby, goodnight mommy' into her navel, she cried when he asked her what was wrong, and she cried when he held her tightly and stroked her back until she fell asleep. She cried so much Tony was surprised she hadn't collapsed with dehydration. He was amazed one person could cry so much in one day – he hadn't cried since he was seven years old.
Tony had spent the last few hours dealing with Kate. He'd held her close and rocked her like a child when she clutched at him, and he'd sat in the armchair and watched from a distance when she pulled away from him and asked to be left alone. When he went to make a cup of coffee and Kate had gotten clingy, he'd held her hand and gone about making the coffee one handed while Kate trailed behind him with her breath all hitched from crying. Everything, since Tony had picked up the pregnancy test, had been about Kate. About making sure she was alright, and getting her to tell him what doctor's appointments she would need and when, so he could write it down ready to make the appointments the next day, and working out whether she would be able to stay on the mission or if she would have to go home. Not that Tony minded looking after Kate like that, he didn't, but it seemed like he hadn't had time to process the whole thing himself yet. Even though he had known there was a possibility – a likelihood, even – that Kate was pregnant, until he read the result of the test it had all seemed somewhat hypothetical.
With a slight frown, Tony ran his hand through his hair. He had never really pictured himself with kids. He had imagined himself way, way into the future, maybe coaching a son on how to get lucky or counselling a daughter on college applications, but he had never thought of children. Running alongside a six year old on a bike with the training wheels newly removed, for instance, or tying a balloon to the belt loops of a toddler.
Tony looked around the room again and decided that a bit of a clear up mission wouldn't go amiss. He had nothing better to do, after all – he couldn't sleep, he was too antsy to watch TV, and waking Kate up was a definite no-no. Tony opened the dishwasher, putting glasses inside and being careful not to clank them together too loudly and disturb Kate. He worked slowly – he was trying to waste his energy so he could sleep again, and while dragging out an already tedious task wasn't exactly entertaining, it was better than racing through it to get it over with and then finding himself with nothing to do – but when he was finished, he still didn't feel like he'd be able to sleep. Giving a resigned sigh, Tony looked to the laptop. It had to be done, after all. And sooner rather than later, at that. It wasn't something that could be put off.
Tony opened the laptop and keyed in the request for a video conference with MTAC. Within a couple of seconds, MTAC flashed up on screen. It always felt slightly surreal, looking at the room from this angle. Seeing all the chairs and the back wall, instead of the giant screens, made Tony feel like he was somehow on display. The fact that he knew he was at least four times taller on the huge screen than he really was didn't help, either. Following the instructions of the MTAC technicians, Tony waited for a couple of minutes while Gibbs was called. With a bit of luck, he'd be out of the office and would be stuck in traffic for a long, long time. Nine months would be nice.
No such luck. Minutes later, Gibbs was standing in front of the screen, sipping a cup of coffee and flanked by the director. Wonderful, Tony thought. Just great. Not only was he going to have to confess to Gibbs, he was going to have to spill the beans to the director as well. Not that he wouldn't find out, obviously, just that Tony had assumed it would be Gibbs who told him, not Tony himself. Gibbs may not approve – he may burst several blood vessels, actually – but everyone knew he'd stand by his team no matter what. Tony had a strong suspicion that the consequences would be a lot less dreadful if the director heard the news from Gibbs instead of him.
"What are you doing up so early?" Gibbs asked by way of greeting.
"Nice to talk to you too, Boss," Tony replied.
Gibbs stared at Tony for a minute or two, in silence, and Tony swallowed thickly.
"Well?" Gibbs prompted. "What do you want, DiNozzo?"
"Could I talk to you in private?" Tony asked. He expected a no, but it was worth a try. To his surprise, the director nodded and, after a few words to Gibbs, left the room. A couple of glares from Gibbs scattered the few agents who were already in the room, and when they were alone – or alone as they could be in a room with technicians and microphones – Gibbs nodded to Tony.
"Go on then," he said.
Tony suddenly wondered if it had really been such a good idea to have this conversation alone. People meant witnesses, after all, and although Tony was fairly sure that even if it was scientifically possible to fire a bullet at a screen and have it actually kill the person on the other side, Gibbs wouldn't have the knowledge necessary to do so, he still felt slightly anxious.
Pausing for a moment to find the words (and the courage) Tony took a deep breath and opened his mouth. The voice that he heard, however, was not his.
"Tony?"
Tony's head jerked up, and he saw Kate in the doorway, blinking in the light and her brow slightly furrowed, nibbling on her thumbnail.
"What are you doing?" she asked softly. Her voice was still a little scratchy from all the crying and being asleep, and, with her hair mussed, she looked, Tony thought, adorable. "Can you come back to bed?"
"I was, uh, just talking to Gibbs," Tony said, gesturing at the laptop.
"Oh," Kate whispered, staring at the laptop.
"Something the two of you would like to share?" Gibbs growled.
Tony winced.
"Can I talk to him?" Kate asked suddenly.
Tony looked up. Leaving this highly unpleasant task to Kate wasn't something he wanted to do – especially when she was tired and emotional. But he also wasn't sure that denying her what she wanted, even if it was something as not-fun as this, was something he was capable of doing right now.
"Sure," Tony said, pushing the laptop towards Kate. "You want me to stay here?"
"No," Kate said, shaking her head. "Thank you."
Tony nodded, before reluctantly leaving the room and mouthing 'good luck' to Kate over the top of the computer. He made his way back to the bedroom, flopping down on top of the covers and staring at the ceiling. He folded his arms behind his head, worrying about how Kate was faring in the kitchen. He wasn't aware of falling asleep, but the next thing he knew, Kate was kneeling over him and shaking his shoulder.
"Tony," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "Wake up."
Tony sat up, shaking his head slightly.
"Sorry," he groaned, when he realised he'd fallen asleep.
"I, erm, I talked to Gibbs," Kate said, looking at the floor as a tear slid off her nose and landed on the duvet.
"And did the two of you set an execution date?" Tony asked. "Or are you just going to spring it on me when I least expect it?"
"I talked him out of it." Kate smiled faintly. "You owe me."
"And are you alright?" Tony checked, reaching out and squeezing Kate's hand, tugging her so she lay down beside him. "Did he make you cry?" Kate shook her head. "Come on, Kate, what did he say to you?"
"Nothing. Nothing bad. He was just mad. He just…"
"He just what? What did he say?"
"Nothing, Tony. It doesn't matter."
"It does. Tell me."
"He said…"
"He said what?"
"He said he expects it of you but I should know better, and he expected better from me, 'specially after the thing in the Secret Service." Kate's breath caught in her throat as she fought back more tears.
Tony kissed Kate's head. "Don't pay any attention to him, Kate."
"But he's right, though, isn't he? He thinks I'm a slut!"
"You're not. And what does he know? He's been married three times."
"He wants to talk to you," Kate sniffed.
"Now?"
"I guess," Kate nodded.
Tony gave Kate's earlobe a gentle kiss, then rolled off the bed and headed for the kitchen. He hung back before approaching the laptop, but made his way over there with a sense of grim determination.
"Kate's crying," Tony accused, before Gibbs could speak. "Because of you."
"I didn't intend to make her cry."
"Well you did."
"Well next time the two of you are in bed together, you can tell her that I didn't mean to," Gibbs growled.
Tony swallowed. "She thinks you think she's a slut. And she thinks you're mad at her." His voice wasn't so challenging now. Gibbs last comment had knocked some of the wind out of his sails.
"I don't think that at all."
There was a long, long pause.
Gibbs surveyed Tony for a second or two, as if choosing his words carefully. That was disturbing enough in itself – Gibbs wasn't the kind of man who put careful consideration into his phrases. He called it as he saw it, and he could always be relied upon to be honest. Often brutally so.
"So Kate's pregnant," Gibbs finally said, slowly and calmly. He took a sip of his coffee, and looked at Tony as if he was expecting a response.
"Yeah," Tony nodded, looking at the floor and turning pink. He felt like a little boy in the principle's office, justifying what he'd done, and it was a horrible feeling. He snuck a look at Gibbs, whose expression was still calm, looking as if he was waiting for the rest of Tony's explanation. "I didn't mean to, Boss," Tony said.
"I know. Kate told me what happened."
Tony nodded, then looked at the floor again. He didn't really have anything to say.
"She's having a baby, then," Gibbs said, in a tone that implied it was as casual a comment as 'you went to the park, then'.
"She is," Tony nodded. "So am I," he added, looking up. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to add that little sentence onto the end – he would have hoped Gibbs thought enough of him to assume it. Just in case, though.
"And how do you feel about that?" Gibbs questioned.
Tony blinked. That was a remarkably personal question, coming from Gibbs, and he was surprised that he cared enough to ask. He didn't have to ask it – it wasn't a vitally important part of the transcript. Gibbs could easily get through the next nine months not knowing how Tony felt about the situation at all.
"I don't know."
"Yes you do," Gibbs corrected.
"It'll sound corny," Tony mumbled, toeing the ground and turning redder. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd admitted that to Gibbs – he could have lied. Gibbs would have known, but he wouldn't have pressed. Somehow, though, this didn't seem like the time for lies.
"I won't tell anyone," Gibbs shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Lucky," Tony mumbled, after a few seconds.
"You are," Gibbs said softly. Tony looked at Gibbs, and thought he saw a flicker of pain cross his features, but he only caught a glimpse before Gibbs sipped his coffee, and when he lowered the cup his face was fixed again. "Tony, I want to talk to you about something. And I don't want you to tell Kate. Or anybody else for that matter."
Tony nodded, and closed the kitchen door for privacy. He settled himself at the table, ready to listen to what Gibbs had to say.
He listened quietly while Gibbs told him of his first real undercover assignment – more than just prancing around the streets with a hat and binoculars, a real assignment where he had a new name and a new life and lived as someone else until the case was closed, like Tony was doing now. A lot like Tony was doing now. Tony's eyes widened as Gibbs told him about Jen – his partner back in the day, just like Kate was Tony's partner. In Paris. Paris, Gibbs said, was a very strange place. It had catalytic powers and made sordid, secret love affairs seem like the best idea on the planet. There was something about it that made beautiful women even more beautiful, and more seductive, and more irresistible, until even the most rational of men (at that point, Tony had to stifle a snigger at the idea of Gibbs being 'rational') threw caution to the wind and acted on impulse. Jen was beautiful, Gibbs told Tony. She had long red hair and a sparkling smile and a knowing, indulgent flicker that appeared in her eyes whenever her over-enthusiastic, puppy-like partner went head over heels after something or another. Tony listened in true fascination as Gibbs told tales of arrests, and fleeing the police, and generally creating havoc across Europe while still, somehow, keeping their jobs and their lives and, for a long time, their relationship, intact.
"What happened?" Tony asked, when Gibbs came to a pause. He had the feeling that this story didn't have the happiest of endings. He would have liked to believe that if he went to the bullpen in a couple of months time, and waited for that redhead to appear and smile at Gibbs, he could yell 'Jen!' and she'd turn around in response, but something about Gibbs tone of voice and his demeanour made him look sort of sad, like there wasn't a storybook ending, even if the beginning was straight from the pages of a children's adventure.
"She was a good agent," Gibbs replied, after sipping his coffee and remaining silent for such a long time that Tony thought he wasn't going to answer. "She was a very good agent. She was a lot like Kate, actually. Feisty and strong and very, very capable. She had to be – back then, there weren't a lot of women in NCIS. Even less than there are now. She got a promotion – well deserved and the first, I'm sure, of many – and she took it."
"Why?" Tony asked. "No promotion could be better than running away from the police with you and Ducky!"
"She didn't tell me why," Gibbs said.
"Why not?"
"We weren't exactly together at the time. Our relationship was great when we were in Europe, or even undercover in the States. But the second we got back to NCIS… well, just ask Ducky," Gibbs gave a wry smile.
"Do you miss her?"
"Yep."
Tony nodded. "Gibbs?" he asked, a couple of seconds later.
"Tony?"
"Do you think that will happen to me and Kate?"
"I think there wasn't a baby involved when it happened to me and Jenny," Gibbs answered.
"That's, uh, that's not a simple answer, Boss."
"Well it wasn't a simple question, DiNozzo."
"Do you think that if you had married her, you'd only have been married once?" Tony asked.
Gibbs didn't answer, and this time Tony could tell that he really wasn't going to get a response.
"I should go check on Kate," Tony said softly, unwilling to leave the room and conversation and end the fragile bond that had filtered between him and his boss over the past half hour. Gibbs nodded. "Boss… thanks for telling me about you and Jen."
"Just bear it in mind, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied.
Tony would bear it in mind. He didn't feel, now, like Gibbs was disappointed in him or angry with him. He felt like they were comrades, in a way, beyond the obvious 'I've got your back, you've got mine' kind of thing they had going on in the field. He felt that Gibbs was proud of him, almost, for sticking with Kate and not running off to hide out in the nearest brothel to recover some of his sanity. Plus, Gibbs had told him about Jen. It had explained a lot, actually – like why Ducky had mentioned history repeating itself, and why Gibbs had been so strange when they first arrived in Paris. Gibbs didn't have to tell him that story, nor did he have to go into so much detail. He was sharing a personal part of himself with Tony, and that made Tony feel like his equal. And, feeling as out of his depth as he did right now, that was somewhat reassuring.
"I will," Tony nodded. "Bye -"
"Tony," Gibbs interrupted.
"Yeah?"
"Don't do anything stupid," he said. "You don't know how lucky you really are. Don't screw it up."
"I won't," Tony answered. "I promise. I won't."
Gibbs nodded, and ducked his head a little. "And, uh, you can tell Kate that I didn't mean what I said to her. And that I don't want her to cry because of it." Before Tony could say anything, the laptop turned blank again. Which was probably a good thing – that, he supposed, was as close to an apology as anyone was ever going to get from Gibbs, and if he started handing out farewells as well, Tony would have to alert the White House that aliens were taking over NCIS.
Tony returned to the bedroom, and paused as he reached the doorway. Kate was fast asleep, lying on top of the duvet, her dark hair fanning out over the pillow. Her top had ridden up a little, and Tony could make out a few inches of bare, flat stomach between the stripy fabric of her pyjama trousers and her cotton t-shirt. Tony wondered how long it would take before her stomach would start to swell, so everyone who looked at her would see the curve of her belly and know she was pregnant. Right now, it felt like a delicious little secret that only a select few got to know. Kate murmured in her sleep and shifted her legs slightly, and Tony grinned. He liked watching Kate sleep. Since they got together he'd found himself staying awake until Kate had fallen asleep, and then just staring her. She looked peaceful when she slept. Peaceful and innocent and young. They'd played a game once, him and Kate and McGee and Abby, in Abby's lab one summer lunchtime when it had been too hot to do anything but sprawl out on the cool floor and make pointless conversation.
Abby had started it.
"What do you think Gibbs would be," she'd asked, slurping her caffpow, "If he didn't work at NCIS?"
"President," Kate had piped up immediately, holding her can of coke to her forehead to cool herself down.
"Insane," Tony suggested.
"A retired Marine, probably," McGee had said, and Abby threw an empty caffpow at him.
"Don't be boring, McGee," she ordered.
"Just saying," McGee had muttered, holding his hands up in defence.
"What would Probie be?" Tony had grinned, watching him fidget as everyone turned to stare at him while they considered it.
"Designer of McGee's Super Duper Magic Computer," Abby said. "It would do everything. Like a robot. He'd be richer than Bill Gates."
"Nah," Tony scoffed. "He'd be an IT teacher."
"What about Ducky?" Kate had grinned. "What would he be?"
"Lost in a jungle somewhere," Tony said. "Trying to find his way back to the ancient tribe of the mgmgmas."
"No he wouldn't," Abby had frowned. "He'd be a school bus driver."
Abby would be a tattoo artist, they had decided. Tony, by unanimous vote, would be a porn star. Kate, much to her disgust, would be a lawyer.
"Why do I have to be a lawyer?" she'd groaned.
"Because," Abby replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "It's really professional."
It was fitting, Tony remembered thinking. Kate was professional. She'd been professional since day one, when she was still Secret Service, and she'd been professional all the time she was at NCIS. It was probably on her birth certificate – 'Caitlin Todd: Professional.' Maternity leave would kill her. When she was asleep, though, she didn't look professional at all. She just looked normal. And, in Tony's not-so-humble opinion, really, really cute.
She turned over, her hair falling over her face, and Tony walked to her side. He covered her over with the comforter that was folded at the end of the bed, and stroked her hair from her face. He lay down beside Kate, carefully draping his arm over her body and pressing himself against the warmth of her back, and tucked her head under his chin so she was cradled right up close to him. She smelt good, so he buried his nose into the top of her head and breathed in deeply.
When Tony woke up a couple of hours later, feeling more drained than if he'd not gone to bed at all, Kate wasn't in his arms anymore. Immediately worried, Tony sat up and was relieved to see that she was asleep a couple of feet away, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed and her foot sticking out of the edge of the duvet. Concerned she was going to fall, Tony reached out and rolled her back into the centre of the bed. The movement woke her, and she lifted her head sleepily. Tony felt a jab of pain as he saw that her cheeks were still streaked with tears from the night before.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Kate smiled at him, yawning widely, and Tony bit his lip hesitantly.
"Are you, erm, feeling okay today?" he asked.
"I feel fine," Kate smiled sleepily. "Morning sickness doesn't start for a while, you know. And trust me, when I get it, I'll let you know."
"I'll look forward to it," Tony groaned. "But I actually meant are you… you know… unhappy?"
"You mean am I going to cry again?" Kate teased. Tony nodded. "Not right now," she said. "Things don't look so bad this morning."
"My grandmother always said things would look better in the morning," Tony nodded. "And they always do."
"You can pass that nugget of information on to your own baby, then," Kate smiled.
Tony grinned, pulling Kate towards him and kissing her.
"Eeww," Kate protested, pulling away from Tony's mouth and wrinkling her nose. "You have morning breath!"
"So?" Tony laughed, reaching for Kate again.
"So no kissing until you brush your teeth!" Kate giggled.
"We can go shopping today," Tony offered. "If you want to. And buy baby clothes."
"It's meant to be bad luck to buy things before the baby's born, you know," Kate said, sitting up and stroking one hand over her stomach. "My sister wrote a list before she had her first baby, and while she was in labour her husband had to go round Mothercare buying everything. They didn't even have a cot."
"Are you going to do that?"
"No way," Kate laughed. "It's just a stupid superstition, I don't believe it. Besides, when I'm in labour, you're staying right there so I can scream at you."
"Good," Tony said, sneaking a kiss before Kate could protest again. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
Kate curled up against Tony, holding his hand and resting her head on his chest.
"Can I tell you something?" she whispered.
"Of course."
"I'm scared."
"What of?"
"That it will hurt."
Tony stroked Kate's hair softly, holding her close to him while she nibbled on her lip nervously and looked up at up, trying to gage his reaction to the news that though she could be as tough and as gutsy as anything when it came to being smacked around by terrorists or held hostage, or staring down gunmen, when it came to something like this she was not, in fact, infallible.
"Well," Tony said, twirling a strand of hair around his fingers and watching it curl. "You don't need to be scared. I'll make sure it doesn't hurt."
"How?"
"Jeez, give me a minute!" Tony rolled his eyes. "You've only just told me. I'm not sure yet. But we've got nine months, and I'll figure it out."
Kate laughed. "Alright," she said. "Just make sure you do!"
By the time they got out of bed and were both showered and clothed, it was lunchtime. Tony, who had apparently taken it upon himself to do the cooking now, made Kate sit at the table while he prepared their lunch.
"I can do something to help, Tony," Kate pointed out, as he rushed around.
"No. A woman in -"
"If you say a woman in my condition, DiNozzo, you won't live to see this baby's first ultrasound, let alone the real thing."
Tony made a face, but still refused to let Kate help him. In a way, Kate was glad. It was quite nice, being waited on hand and foot. Even if Tony did burn the food. Over lunch, they discussed what they were going to do when they went back home. Tony was reluctant, at first, to discuss anything about the baby – he didn't want to set Kate off crying again – but he needn't have worried. Kate smiled and laughed the whole way through the conversation. They didn't actually agree on anything, but that didn't matter. Tony was just glad that Kate wasn't crying anymore.
Tony went to the supermarket in the afternoon. Kate nearly fainted when he said he was going out to buy some groceries, but he managed to convince her that he would manage. Kate made him a list, still slightly in shock, and Tony made his way to the supermarket. He got lost a couple of times trying to find the place, but he got there in the end. However, as he stepped inside and consulted his list, neatly drawn up for him in Kate's pretty handwriting, he realised something he hadn't taken into account.
Supermarkets were huge.
At home, Tony ate takeout. Or he ate at work. Or at a girl's apartment. He had the basics, but he bought them from the small shop at the end of his road, that was run by a nice Indian man whose wife sometimes gave him leftover curry in a tub to thank him for his loyal business. He very rarely stepped foot into a supermarket. He never went in alone, or paid attention to his surroundings. And he didn't have the faintest idea how to get round one quickly or efficiently. He considered ringing Kate, to ask her to come down and help him navigate his way between the rows and rows of food, but he wanted to prove to her – and himself – that he could do it. And he didn't want to make her come out – that had been the whole point of doing it himself – so Kate could rest. Besides, he had the car. He was well and truly stuck.
Be a man, DiNozzo, he ordered himself. If you can buy a pregnancy test, you can do the grocery shopping.
He selected a trolley, battling to push it in a straight line but eventually managing to bring it more or less under control, and eyed the list. Yoghurt, Kate had written. Okay. That couldn't be too hard… Tony made his way to the dairy section, giving the trolley an angry kick to get it to move properly. He wasn't prepared for the vast quantity of yoghurt that he had to choose from, though. There were brands and flavours and variations, and he didn't have a clue what kind Kate would want. There was low-fat, but he didn't want to get that because she might take it the wrong way, but if he bought full fat she might not eat it. Some had bits of real fruit in them, which he guessed Kate would probably approve of, but they all looked pretty unappetising. Even the plain yoghurt came in about ten different styles. Giving up on making an informed decision, Tony just grabbed a handful of tubs and dropped them into the trolley. He'd just come back with specifics if Kate didn't like them.
The rest of the trip was equally was confusing and unsuccessful. Barely anything Kate had written down was actually specific, leaving Tony to work out which brand or variety he should get, and it didn't help that the damn trolley never went where he wanted it to and he kept crashing it into other people. By the time he reached the till, he had been in the supermarket for three hours to buy two bagfuls of food and was well and truly stressed out. He was worried about Kate – he hadn't meant to leave her alone for that amount of time, and even though he was sure she'd ring him if there was a problem, he wanted to get back and make sure she was alright – and he was getting extremely irritated with the woman in line in front of him, who was taking her time packing her shopping away and seemed totally oblivious to the fact that she was blocking the way for other people who might actually be in a hurry.
Finally, he made it back to his car with the shopping complete and his sanity more or less intact. He grabbed his phone to let Kate know he was on his way home, and dialled the number. She didn't pick up. He guessed she must be in the bathroom or something, so he hung up. He pulled out of the parking lot, driving towards the exit, and hit redial. Still, there was no answer, just his own cheerful voice announcing in French then English that neither he nor Kate could come to the phone right now, but would call back ASAP if he would please leave a message after the beep.
"Hi Kate," he said, as soon as he connected to the answer machine. "It's me. Why aren't you picking up? I'm on my way back, anyway. So, uh, I guess I'll see you in a little while. Bye."
He hung up, making a face and dropping the phone onto the passenger seat. He hated leaving messages on the answer machines, it made him feel awkward. He was always painfully aware that he was talking to a machine and nobody was on the other end. As he drove along, worrying about Kate and imagining all sorts of horrific scenarios as to why she wasn't picking up the phone, ranging from slipping over in the shower and lying unconscious on the bathroom floor to Stefan and Gerard appearing and dragging her away to hold her hostage, he was in such a trance that he didn't even realise he'd arrived back at the apartment.
Making his way inside, dragging the groceries behind him, he rushed up to the apartment. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, wishing he had a gun, expecting to find bloodstained walls and Kate missing. To his surprise – and great relief – Kate was sitting on the sofa, a blanket tucked around her shoulders, watching the TV.
"Jeez," Tony muttered, feeling an inexplicable rush of annoyance replace his fear. "Answer the phone next time, will you? I was worried."
"Sorry," Kate muttered, picking at the pattern on the blanket.
Tony glared at her and went into the kitchen to dump the groceries. He returned to the lounge, switching the lights on.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" he asked.
Kate didn't answer him, and when he looked at her he saw that her eyes were red and there were streaks of mascara down her cheeks.
"Kate?" he asked, joining her on the sofa and taking one of her hands. It was trembling. "Are you alright?"
"I don't feel good," she said softly.
"What's wrong?" Tony asked.
"My stomach hurts," Kate replied, resting her head on Tony's chest.
Tony stroked a hand down to Kate's stomach, rubbing it gently.
"Is something wrong?" he asked. "Or is it just from being pregnant?"
"Nothing's wrong," Kate said. "It just hurts."
Tony massaged Kate's stomach softly, kissing her forehead and holding her tightly. They stayed like that for several minutes, not talking or moving, just curled up next to one another.
"Hey," Tony said, after a while. "You know who we haven't told about this baby?"
"Everyone except Gibbs?" Kate pointed out.
"Well, yeah. But I mean someone specific. She'll be very happy to find out, I think…"
"Abby?"
"You wanna call her and let her know?"
Kate nodded, grinning. Tony got his feet, offering Kate his hand and helping her up off the sofa.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Kate said, squeezing Tony's hand. "I'll be there in a second."
Tony kissed Kate quickly, before making his way to the kitchen and starting up the laptop. A few hastily keyed in instructions and, within seconds, Abby was on the screen bouncing and squealing with joy.
"Tony!" she squealed, throwing her arms around Bert and squeezing him tight. "You have no idea how much self-control is going into not hugging my computer right now!"
Tony laughed. "Hey Abby," he grinned. "You having fun?"
"Not as much fun as I would be if I was in Paris with you guys. Gibbs is a slave driver, you know. Now you're not here he's making McGee do more work, which means I'm doing more work without his help. I hope you feel guilty. And all our cases suck at the moment."
"Do they ever not?" Tony asked.
"Well, no. You got any good news for me?"
Kate appeared in the doorway, rubbing her red eyes, and Tony grinned at her.
"As a matter of fact, I do. Kate's here, she'll tell you."
"What?" Abby asked, hopping up and down with excitement. "What? I don't see Kate… what's going on?"
Tony turned the laptop so Abby could see Kate, and laughed at the squeal of joy that followed. The concern that laced Abby's tone in her next sentence, however, was not what Tony had expected.
"Are you alright?" Abby asked.
Tony turned round in time to see Kate shake her head and then burst into tears, turning against the doorpost and bringing her arms up, burying her face in them.
"Tony!" Abby wailed. "Do something!"
"Call you back, Abs," Tony promised, slamming the laptop shut and racing over to Kate's side. "Hey," he said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. Kate shrugged away from him, hiding her face against her arms again. "Kate, what's wrong?" Tony pleaded. "Tell me, I'll make it better."
"You can't," Kate sobbed.
"I can," Tony swore, tugging Kate to his chest and holding her tightly. She struggled against him, but he was stronger and he didn't let go. Eventually Kate stopped thrashing around and just flopped her head against his chest.
"Let me go," she pleaded.
"No," Tony said.
"Please!"
"I'll let you go if you tell me what's wrong."
Kate shook her head, and garbled something incomprehensible into his shirt. Tony couldn't understand a word of what she was going on about, so he just let her cry against him and held her, even when her tears soaked through his shirt and he could feel the wetness of her tears against his skin. She grabbed onto his arm, too, digging her nails into his skin like she thought he might float away if she didn't cling on tight. It hurt at first, but Tony didn't say anything, and after a while the spots she was scratching just went numb. Eventually, she stopped crying, and just hung against him. Tony risked tilting her head up, and when she met his eyes he thought it would break his heart.
"Tell me," he whispered, as she averted her gaze.
Kate took a long, deep, shuddery breath and shook her head.
"I thought you were happy again?" Tony asked, as Kate hid her face once again in his shirt. "I thought you just had stomach ache? You were all smiley a minute ago, you were going to tell Abby you're pregnant and -"
"I'm not."
"Well, I can tell, but why? I thought -"
"No, I'm not… I'm not pregnant."
Tony frowned.
"You are," he said.
"I'm not. I just got my period."
"But we did a pregnancy test," Tony protested. "I read it, it said you were pregnant."
"I'm sorry Tony," Kate whispered, tears welling up in her eyes again.
Tony squeezed Kate tightly, until she gasped, then he let her go a little. "It's not your fault," he said, resting his head on top of Kate's and breathing in her scent. "Don't be sorry."
Kate sighed heavily, running her fingers over the bruises she had made on Tony's arm.
"I didn't mean to do that," she murmured.
"I know. It doesn't hurt."
"Sorry."
"It's okay, Kate."
"I'm still sorry."
"Okay."
Kate slid her arms around Tony's waist and leant against him, letting him support her weight and keep her on her feet. She was shaking all over – Tony could feel her trembling. She wasn't crying though, and Tony supposed she couldn't have any tears left by now.
"Are you hungry?" Tony whispered into the top of Kate's head, some immeasurable amount of time later when he felt like he could think straight again.
"No." Kate's voice was muffled against his body, but he could still hear her.
"Do you want me to run you a bath?"
"No."
"Do you want to go to bed?"
"No."
Tony nodded, and held Kate tighter. All those other times, when she'd been crying, he'd wished she'd stop. Now he wished she'd cry again, because he could handle that and he knew how to make it better. He didn't know how to deal with total silence. It scared him.
Eventually, he persuaded Kate to go to bed. He took her into his bedroom and waited while she got changed, then lay down beside her and held her tightly until her breathing turned soft and slow and her eyes fell shut. Only when he was sure Kate was fast asleep and wasn't about to wake up did he allow himself to leave her. He went into the kitchen, because the groceries were in there and they needed to be put away before he did anything else, and he didn't have anything better to do anyway.
The yoghurt and the milk had probably gone off by now, but he put them in the fridge anyway. The ice-cream had half-melted, but that would freeze again. Everything else would be fine. He put away all the fruit, making sure to wash it first, and he packed away all the tins and boxes in the cupboards until his arms ached from reaching up so much. When all the food was put away, he dug around in the bottom of the bag and pulled out the velvety soft toy giraffe he'd picked up on a whim halfway round the supermarket. He couldn't get what Kate had told him that morning out of his head, about it being bad luck to buy things before the baby was born. He knew it was a silly superstition, Kate didn't even believe it so why should he? And it wasn't like Kate had had a miscarriage – there hadn't even been a baby in the first place. But he still couldn't help wondering whether it might have been different if he hadn't bought the giraffe. His throat was sore, and he was tired even though it wasn't that late, and Kate would probably wake up soon if he didn't go back to her, so Tony squeezed the giraffe tight in his hand and dropped it back in the bag, balling it up and hiding at the back of the cupboard behind the cookies and the biscuits where he knew Kate wouldn't find it.
He was tired but he didn't feel like going to bed just yet, so Tony went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The lock still wasn't fixed – he'd have to do something about that, soon, or Kate would get really mad. In the bin under the sink he could see the pregnancy test from the day before, and the box and the instructions were still sitting on the worktop. He'd have to get rid of that, he noted to himself, before Kate got up in the morning and saw it.
Throwing his clothes in a heap on the floor and stepping into the shower, Tony sighed. The hot water felt good against his skin, and he opened his mouth and let it run down his throat to clear away the blocked up feeling inside.
It wasn't until he was out of the shower and was almost dry that he realised the water that had been running down his face since he stepped into the shower was still there and that it wasn't, in fact, shower water, but tears.