I feel I have left you waiting on the edge of a cliff for long enough now. I think the suspense has built sufficiently.
XXXI. It Is Only A Problem If It Has A Solution.
He couldn't sit still. How could he, when no one would talk to him? He just wanted to know what was happening. He just wanted to know that she was going to be all right. She was his life, and she was lying in a hospital bed and nobody would even talk to him. He couldn't live without her. He couldn't face the idea. She was everything he wanted. He could live without every other luxury, if only he had her. There couldn't be a higher power cruel enough to take that away from him could there? Of course there could. That is what higher powers do. On his third lap of pacing around the waiting room he spotted Ducky walking through the doors. "What's going on? What's happened? Is she all right? What's wrong?"
"Anthony, calm down." Ducky placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders and guided him to a chair. "When was the last time you saw her eat?"
"I dunno. I guess I made her breakfast this morning."
"But did you see her eat?" The doctor pushed.
"Well, I guess she had a few mouthfuls, but I had to have a shower. I just thought she ate it."
"So when was the last time you actually saw her eat something?"
"She had a salad for lunch yesterday. Ducky, what's going on?"
"How has she been sleeping lately?" He ignored the younger man's questions.
"She's been sleeping later. What's going on?!"
"She hasn't been eating enough. She's exhausted." Ducky sighed.
"And that's it? All that's wrong is that she hasn't been eating and sleeping?" He watched the pathologist look away. "What aren't you telling me? Are the twins alright?"
"They're going to be alright." He smiled.
"Ducky, what aren't you telling me about Ziva?!" He yelled, attracting glares from others in the waiting room.
"She has a cold."
"Ducky says you haven't been sleeping." Tony walked into the room and sat in the chair next to the hospital bed. The private room was dimly lit as she sat in bed propped up by a pillow doubled over to give it more bulk, an IV drip in her arm. She looked like she was about to make something up, but after seeing his expression, the hidden anger, she decided against it, blowing her nose to hide her face as she answered.
"I have been having some nightmares." She said quietly and sniffed.
"Why didn't you wake me? Talk to me about them?" He was seething, but not at her. He could never be angry at her. He was angry with himself for not noticing. He should have noticed.
"Because they are nothing."
"If they are stopping you from sleeping they are definitely something." He had to restrain himself from shouting.
"I have always had them. They have just never taken such a toll though."
"Well, you are using a lot of your energy to grow two kids." He sighed. "What about the eating?" He nodded to the drip supplying her with nutrients.
"I am not hungry. Food makes my stomach spin."
"Turn." He muttered, correcting her without thinking.
"What?"
"Turn. Food makes your stomach turn."
"What is the difference?"
"Well, heads spin. Stomachs turn. It's just the way the world works."
"The world makes no sense." She pouted.
"So, you were saying food makes your stomach turn."
"I just cannot face eating anything. It makes me feel sick."
"Then why didn't you just tell me?" He stared at her, his hand finding its way to hold hers. She mumbled something unintelligible and he frowned, trying to understand it before giving up. "Louder, Ziva. I don't have bionic hearing."
"Because I am not weak." She mumbled slightly louder. Tony sighed and looked at her face, the pain it had caused just to say those five words.
"I know you are not weak, Ziva." Why couldn't she understand that being ill, or scared, or upset did not imply weakness, only that she was a human? They had been through it so many times. "None of this makes you weak, it makes you a person. With feelings." He sighed. "And I know you have feelings. You have so many feelings."
"If my father saw me now he would disown me." She muttered, not listening to what he was saying.
"Ziva, your father cares only about results, only about getting the job done, not about the heart inside you." He stroked her hair back from her pale face and his heart shattered inside his chest at her sunken eyes and he traced the dark circles outlining them with his thumb. "How did I not notice this?"
"Because I am good at hiding it." She shrugged, hating how much she had hurt him. She wasn't even entirely certain why he was hurt by it all. It wasn't as if he had put her in the hospital bed. "It was not your fault."
"It was, Ziva. I love you, I should have been able to see that you were ill."
"I am not ill." She protested.
"Ducky says you have a cold." He watched as she fell back on the bed, a petulant expression on her face. "The doctors say they want to keep you here until they are happy that you are doing okay and the babies are fine. Which means at least a week."
"What about work?"
"It means you get time off work." He laughed. "You're lucky."
"Gibbs is going to blow a basket." She looked at him.
"I'm sorry, what?" Sometimes her pick-a-mix of idioms were simply too garbled to be untangled.
"Blow a basket. You know, lose his temper?"
"You mean 'blow a gasket'." He laughed and shook his head. "No, he understands. The director on the other hand is already pushing for you to take early maternity leave. Starting imminently." He watched as her face fell in horror and smiled.
"Tony, I cannot spend almost a year not working."
"Don't worry, I've plead your case. Gibbs is on the waiting room balcony yelling at her as we speak."
"The waiting room has a balcony?"
"I know, snazzy hospital." He chuckled as the first smile tugged at her lips.
"Snazzy?"
"Yeah, you know, cool." He shrugged and laughed as she shook her head. "And, your room has a really nice view." He pointed to the window, turning away from her slightly. "Please tell me when things are wrong in the future. I want to be able to help."
"And what if you cannot help? I believe you Americans say 'A problem shared is a problem doubled' and I do not think that two need to worry over something that I can worry about fine on my own."
"It's actually 'a problem shared is a problem halved'." He smiled softly, looking at their entwined hands. "And I worry more when you don't tell me about things."
"You do not need to worry about me, Tony. I promise you, I am fine."
"Which is entirely why you are lying in a hospital bed with a drip feeding you nutrients. You are fine." He said, unable to keep the thick sarcasm from his voice. "I just want you to be able to talk to me. We're getting married, Ziva. You have to talk." She sat in silence, studying his face.
"My parents never talked. I barely remember them even saying two words to one another each day." She whispered quietly. "I do not want to be a bad parent, Tony."
"And you won't be." He smiled. "Neither of us will be."
"But we both love our work."
"And we'll find a balance." He shrugged. "Every problem has a solution."
"And every solution has a problem." She muttered.
"But then there will always be a solution to that problem, and as the solutions get smaller, so will the problems. Everyone has problems that they have to deal with. That's what family's for."
"Very philosophical." A voice said from behind them and they both turned to stare at the nurse standing in the doorway. "Sorry for listening in." She walked in slightly slightly. "The doctor wanted you to eat something solid, no arguments." She placed a tray of assorted foods on the table next to the bed.
"I am not hungry." Ziva stated, turning her nose up at the food and switching to breathing solely through her mouth to avoid the smell.
"You have to eat something. Doctor's orders." The nurse said quietly, her mousey shyness strangling her voice.
"I do not want to eat anything!" Ziva yelled at her. The nurse scurried off, taking the tray of food with her, and Tony sighed. She really could be scary when she wanted to.
"Ziva, come on. Please."
"The smell makes me feel sick." She said shakily and he could see the tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to overspill.
"I know, baby. I know." He murmured as he shifted from his chair to sit of the edge of the bed. He wrapped his arms around her as she leaned into him, burying her head in his t-shirt as he rubbed her back gently. He swung his legs up onto the bed next to hers and leaned back slightly. "I wish you had told me." The few tears that he had managed to hold in since he had seen Ziva on the bathroom floor slipped down his cheeks and onto the top of her head.
"If you won't eat, Miss David, I will have to ask Mr DiNozzo to leave." Ziva's doctor said as he walked in, a stern look on his face.
"The food makes me feel sick. I do not want to eat." She growled at him, although Tony noticed that her voice had grown weak again.
"You're not going to get better if you don't eat. And you're not leaving here until you get better. If banning all visitors is what I have to do to get you to eat, I will." He shrugged as she glared at him, laying back in exhaustion. "Mr DiNozzo, I have to ask you to leave."
"I'm not leaving her." He moved closer to her slightly and gripped her hand tighter.
"Then I will just have to call security. Please, I want her to get better as much as you do, and if this is the only way then this is the way that it has to be." Tony sighed, relenting. The doctor had a point. He bit his lip and looked down to his fiancée who was silently pleading with him not to leave her.
"I'm sorry, sweet-cheeks." He pressed his lips to her forehead, wiping away the tears that began to dribble down the side of her face. It hurt him to see how truly helpless and vulnerable she looked as she lay in the hospital bed, the blue and white gown she had been issued too big and the thin hospital sheets doing nothing to keep her warm. She looked like a child, frail from a debilitating illness. How had he not noticed how bad the morning sickness had been? As she had said she was good at hiding her discomfort, but he still should have seen it taking a toll on her. He should have noticed her waking through the nights with horrifying dreams. He should have noticed her not eating. He should have been able to see her fade. But he hadn't. All he had seen was the beautiful, strong woman waking slightly later than normal. Love had blinded him. He was kicking himself. He should have seen it. He looked up, not realising that his feet had taken him to the waiting room, his gaze meeting that of Gibbs.
"How is she?"
"The smell of food is making her sick. They've told her she can't have visitors until she eats something." He looked to Tim, Abby, Ducky and the director as they stood a few paces behind Gibbs. They all wanted to see their friend, their sister, niece, daughter when she needed them most and he was telling them they couldn't. Abby ran over and flung her arms around his neck, strangling him in the biggest 'Abby hug' she could muster.
"Oh, Tony. Is she gonna be alright?"
"I hope so, Abs. I really, really hope so." He swallowed, looking to Gibbs.
He walked through the door, smiling slightly at her grumpy expression and placing a paper bag on the chair. "I am not allowed visitors."
"Didn't get that memo." He shrugged and walked over. He found the sight of the strongest woman he knew reduced to lying in a small white bed with a drip connected to her rather hard to stomach. It amazed him that all that was really causing her discomfort was two tiny bundles of cells. Two tiny bundles of cells that in a few months would be humans and he had no doubt that she and DiNozzo would love with all their hearts. "Thought you would be bored." He nodded to the bag as she reached over feebly and removed items from it, smiling weakly as she tried to figure out who had sent what. A crossword book – Ducky. An iPod of with songs that only one person she knew listened to on it – Abby. A handheld game console and a driving game – McGee. A book on how to play chess – Palmer, maybe? A photo album of pictures of the team from crime-scenes and places around the Navy Yard that she frequented, a note in the front reading so you can remember your way around when you get back – Jenny, judging by the handwriting. And last, a pile of DVDs. No points for guessing who sent those.
"Thank you." She smiled, running her fingers over a picture in the album of the whole team together at the Christmas party the year before. She missed them. Three days with only seeing doctors, nurses and a psychologist who wanted to talk about her nightmares was doing her head in. Of course, she had refused to talk to the psychologist, and she was rather nonplussed when one of the nurses brought her a pot of Jell-O to try and eat. Cherry of all flavours. Her mind flickered back to petty officer Woodson and the case. "Have you caught the killer yet?"
"Officer David, you're off duty. All you need to think about is getting better."
"So that is a no."
"Yes. How's the getting better going?"
"The doctor said that as I get closer to and then further into the second trimester, the morning sickness should start to fade." She shrugged. "I can eat things if I cannot smell them, but that is very limiting. They gave me some rice yesterday, and that was not so bad, but I still felt queasy."
"You know, what ever your father told you, being sick is not a weakness. It doesn't mean that you're admitting defeat."
"Then what does it mean?"
"Means you're strong. It shows a lot of strength to open up, to tell someone what you fear, to tell someone what's wrong."
"My father would disagree."
"Ziva, you're father didn't raise you to be a human. He raised a ruthless killing machine. You have a chance to start again now, prove him wrong. Be strong Ziva. Talk to Tony about your nightmares. Tell us when you feel sick. Tell us when you're in pain." He – a man of very, very few words – managed to string a couple of almost eloquent sentences together as he pleaded with her.
"Gibbs I am sorry for taking time away from work."
"Don't apologise, or I will call you weak." He said sternly. "It's not the last time you'll be taking time off."
The last paragraph might seem a little out of place now, seeing as it is set three days after the rest, but it might make slightly more sense when the next chapter is uploaded (And more importantly finished – whenever that will be). It was just something I was playing about with, and I am not certain that it worked, so just be patient with your criticism of how confusing it is until after you have read the next chapter. Not that any of you are ever critical in any way other than constructive (Of which I am always grateful for).
