30 Reviews total, 62 followers. Thanks guys! Thanks to Zay for proofreading this chapter and giving me a lot of help as a result. :)
He figured that, at least for a brief period of time, they could keep quiet about the whole situation, at least until they figured out what they were doing. However, the reoccurring morning sickness made that task difficult. On one morning about a week after Ziva told Tony that she was pregnant, she was having a particularly tough case, and when Gibbs asked where Ziva was, Tony barely stammered out a lie worth believing.
She even had to start wearing more makeup than she was used to, as her skin tone paled significantly, and would have been noticeable otherwise. Tony could still tell, but he knew it was probably just because he was giving her a lot more attention these days, if that was even possible. Each day, he waited for the subject to come up again, but time and time again, the day passed with the subject unspoken.
Late one night, when they were left in the squad room alone to finish paperwork, he found himself watching her. Gibbs and McGee were long gone, and she had been looking at him every few minutes since they had left, as if wanting to say something, but each time, she simply returned her attention to the computer in front of her or the paperwork on her desk.
Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. "How long do you think we can keep this up?"
He had hesitated, eyes meeting hers, uncertainty in his voice when he spoke. "I honestly don't know, Ziva."
She'd chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded before gathering her things and getting up to leave.
"Ziva." He called once, but she was already at the elevator. He considered following her for a moment, but then decided against it because even if he did catch up to her, he wouldn't know what to say. He simply vowed to figure it out before he left, and try to fix things over a pizza.
He sighed, putting his head into his hands and wondering how in the world they were meant to handle this, because he had no earthly idea.
She was at about 7 weeks now, and she'd start gaining weight soon. As small as she was, that would be quickly noticed by her co-workers. They couldn't just keep acting like it wasn't there, but how were they supposed to tell people?
"Hey, Gibbs. I know you have this rule against co-workers dating and everything, but rules are meant to be broken, right? So, hey, by the way, Ziva's pregnant, and it's my kid."
He shook his head. There was absolutely no way to approach that delicately where his silver haired boss was concerned.
Abby might would understand. McGee probably would, too. Maybe. But the prospect of even bringing the subject up around them made him feel a little sick.
Realizing he would never figure out all of the answers sitting in a lonely room at seven in the evening, he called the nearest pizza place and placed an order, and then headed there to pick it up.
When he pulled up to her apartment building twenty minutes later, he waited in the car for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to apologize for upsetting her. Maybe simplicity would work best? He leaned his head against the steering wheel, feeling exhausted. He almost wished he could take the whole night back, but he knew that regardless of the consequences, he didn't wish that.
He didn't regret anything; she did.
When he finally made it to her apartment door after another ten minutes of contemplating, he hesitated only briefly before knocking once.
She opened the door, looking even paler than she had when she'd left work. She was wearing an old tank top and pajama pants, and she seemed to be just as exhausted as he was. When she saw him, she took enough of a step forward to lean against the doorframe. She didn't say anything, though, and so he lifted the pizza as a peace offering.
"Sorry."
"And?"
"And… we have to figure out what we're going to do, Ziva." He said, keeping his eyes on her face as she seemed to process his words.
Finally, she nodded, stepping back and opening the door for him, letting him in.
They still put off the topic of conversation for as long as humanly possible, keeping themselves occupied with Friends on the television and pizza to eat. Though he tried to keep himself from doing so, Tony found himself glancing over at her several times, noticing the anxiety that seemed to be radiating from her. When the last piece of pizza disappeared from the box, Tony turned toward her reluctantly, watching as her expression froze over.
"Ziva, we're on thinning ice here." He said, and she shrugged, looking down at her hands. "You were the one who asked what we're going to do, and we have to figure that out. We can't just keep acting like this isn't happening.
She shrugged again, looking away from him. "I know it is happening."
"Do you?" he asked, fighting to keep the sharpness out of his voice. "Because you're pretending pretty well that nothing's happening, if you ask me."
She stood and walked toward the kitchen, fists clenched. "I'm pregnant with your child, Tony. That is what is happening."
"Oh, okay. You do know what's happening." He said, standing and following her, trying to force away his growing agitation. "So what are you going to do about it?"
She turned around, and he was closer than she'd expected, because her torso collided with his. She took a step back, closing her eyes for a brief moment, collecting herself. "I don't know."
She opened her eyes, but didn't look at him. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked to her right at a random painting on the wall. Her lips were in a tight line, and she seemed to be chewing on the inside of her cheek.
He took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Getting mad and fighting with her definitely wasn't going to help them any. "Okay, well let's figure it out, because we can't just keep putting this conversation off. I mean, do… do you want to… have the kid?"
She looked at him then, eyes a little moist. "I…" she hesitated, then nodded once. "Yes."
He felt a strange rush of relief that surprised him. "Okay, well that leaves two options that I can see."
She nodded. "I… We keep the baby, or we give the baby up for adoption."
"Yeah." He said, pursing his lips. "What do you want to do?"
She shrugged in response once again, and he resisted the urge to tell her to stop doing that. "I don't know, Tony. I really don't. I… stopped picturing this opportunity for myself a while back, but now that the chance is here… I do not know if I want to simply… give it away."
Tony looked down at his hands, which were sitting in his lap, wondering if she knew the effect her words were having on him. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and spoke softly. "Even if you're having a child with someone like me?"
He felt her eyes on him, but he couldn't muster up the courage to look at her in return.
"What do you mean by that?" Ziva asked, after a moment that he assumed was spent trying to get him to look at her.
He hesitated, self consciously playing with his fingers. "I mean, it's me, Ziva. Who in their right mind would want a kid with someone like me?" He tried to laugh his comment off as a joke, but his expression contradicted his attempt.
"Don't cut yourself so short. You're… you're not as bad of a person as you think you are." She said, her voice sounding as if she were talking to a confused child.
He sighed before putting his head in his hands, feeling defeated in more ways than one. "I'm really sorry."
He felt her hand on his knee, and he looked up at her. "It… This is not just your fault."
"Feels like it." He said bitterly, moving his knee from under her touch and returning his gaze to her carpet.
"It isn't." she said again with a sense of finality, but it didn't exactly reassure him. "Now, what are we going to do?"
"You're asking me now?" he asked, a little incredulously. "Well, I guess, first of all, you're going to see a doctor, and you're going to get all those stupid pills-"
"They're called prenatals, Tony." She interrupted, a smile lighting up her features. He felt his heart give a tug at the sight that already seemed a little foreign to him.
"Well, you're going to get them, and we're going to make sure you take care of yourself." He said pointedly, smirking.
She nodded. "Of course. Then what?"
"I guess… we try to decide who to tell first, because in a few more weeks, you'll tell on yourself." He said, casting a quick glance to her stomach. She let her hand rest just above her belly button, eyes clouded for a brief moment. Her finger absently traced a pattern where it rested.
"Who do we tell first?" She asked, removing her hand, pulling her knees up to her chin, and wrapping her arms around her bent legs.
"Gibbs? He'd be the first to figure it out, anyway, the way he is." Tony pointed out.
"How?" she squeezed her knees a little tighter, as if she were holding herself together.
Something in her voice shook him to his core more than he would have admitted, and he sighed. "I'll tell him, by myself. He might get mad to begin with, and if he's mad at anyone, it's going to be me, not you."
"Tony, you don't have to do that. I'm perfectly capable of handling Gibbs being angry with me, as well." She protested.
He dismissed her quickly with a wave of his hand. "No big deal. It's a man thing."
She glared at him for a moment and then sighed, deciding not to fight him. She rested her chin on her knees. "I'm tired."
He stood, stretching, and she did the same as he walked to the door. "I should… get home. It's late, and you need sleep." He paused to put on his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Uh, sorry, again."
She shrugged, crossing her arms over her stomach. "It's fine."
"I… I know this isn't… easy. His hands burrowed deeper into his pockets as he tried to find the right words to say. "But… I mean, we… we're gonna be okay, like always."
She nodded, hesitating before reaching out to him. Her small arms wrapped around his frame, and she nestled her head underneath his chin. He responded, wrapping his arms around her. Something about the intimate motion felt easy, and though he automatically questioned why, he quickly pushed the thoughts aside.
"Don't worry about anything, because we'll figure it all out. Promise. Everything's going to be okay." He whispered into her hair, finding that words were much easier when he wasn't avoiding her gaze. He closed his eyes briefly in a silent prayer that his words were true, because letting her down this time wasn't an option he could afford.
"Thank you." She mumbled into his neck, before letting him go. "Sleep well."
He reached up to tousle her hair, satisfied when a smile lit up her tired features. "Yeah." He smiled in return. "You, too."