When she steps out of the bathroom, after her shower, she wears a look of defeat. She wanders into the living room, and finds Tony holding the baby. He immediately notices the look.
"What is that look for?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looks around the room, "Tell you what?"
"How terrible I look."
"You just got done having a baby."
"That is no excuse."
'"What are you even talking about?"
"I jiggle."
"You jiggle? What are you talking about?"
"My stomach is like a bowl full of jello."
"You just had a baby. Give it some time. Don't be so hard on yourself."
"I think that I need to go for a run."
"Don't to turn into so crazy person, with an obsession over your body. Things change. You are going to have to deal with that."
"I do not want to deal with it. I am not ok with the way that I look right now. I look like I'm still pregnant. Why didn't you tell me?"
"There is no way for me to win at this."
"Do you think that I still look pregnant?" she wonders.
He rolls his eyes. She rolls up her shirt, exposing her stomach.
"Do you?"
"No, Ziva, I don't. I think that you're being crazy."
"I don't like it."
"Then go for a run."
"You'll say that I am a crazy person."
"I already do. And, since when do you care what I think?"
"I don't want to go crazy."
"Ziva, if it would make you feel better, then go for a run. Just don't over do it."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but if that is what you need to do, then I will support you."
"You have been far to supportive lately."
"Would you prefer that I be critical?"
"Maybe."
"I do not think that you need to go for a run, right now. I think that if you are feeling self-conscious about your body it would be better to go for a walk. You did just have a baby. You need to give yourself time to heal. Maybe you should ease into things. You can't go full force, right away."
"I'll be fine."
"Really? I delivered him, remember?"
"I remember."
"I saw the tear. Maybe you haven't seen it."
"I have seen it."
"Not like I have. Maybe you should take a mirror, and look at it."
"Don't be disgusting."
"I'm not trying to be. I am serious. Take a look at it, and then tell me that you think it's ok to go for a run, and risk slowing down the healing process."
"I am just going to go a couple of blocks," she insists.
"Fine," he throws his hands up, in defeat.
"Are you sure that you can watch him?"
"Watch him, do what?"
"Keep an eye on him?"
"Sure. We get along great, you know. I watch T.V., and he sleeps in my arms. It's a great relationship."
"I am leaving now."
"If you're not back in twenty minutes I am sending the police to escort you home."
"Fine," she rolls her eyes as she leaves the apartment.
Eighteen minutes later she returns, drenched in sweat, panting. She eases herself onto the couch, next to Tony. He gets up, and places the baby in his basinet. He goes into the kitchen, and grabs a bottle of water. He hands it to her.
She takes it from him, and gulps it down. She tosses the empty bottle onto the floor. He reclaims his spot on the couch. She stretches her legs out, over top of him. He slips off her shoes, they fall to the floor.
"I am not taking your socks of, they're disgusting."
"I hate when you're right," she tells him.
"Really? Could you repeat that?"
"You were right. That was a bad idea."
"Because?"
"I did not ease back into it. I ran as fast, and as hard as I could."
"And?"
"Now every muscle fiber in my body is screaming at me."
"And you need another shower."
"And it made me feel worse."
"Because?"
"I am not as in shape as I used to be."
"You just had a baby."
"I was in shape when I was pregnant."
"And then you pushed a watermelon through a whole the size of a ballpoint pen."
"Can you help me?"
"Help you what?"
"Get up."
"Get up?"
"I want to go take a shower."
"And you can't get up?"
"It hurts," she admits.
"Oh, by the way," he points to the counter, in the kitchen, "Those came for you, while you were out."
He helps her off the couch, to her feet. She glances at the vase full of flowers.
"Who are they from?"
"Guess."
"I do not feel like guessing."
"Please?"
"Just tell me. I want to go take a shower."
"Go take a shower, and then when you're in a better mood, you can guess."
"Just tell me!"
"Eli sent them."
"Eli?"
"Yes, you know, Eli David? Director of Mossad. Father of Ziva David. Your father. He sent you flowers, there is a card too."
"What did it say?"
"I didn't read it."
"You delivered my baby, but you draw the line at reading my mail? Since when?"
"Since I delivered your baby. My desire to invade your privacy has greatly decreased," he admits.