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In a way, the pain that followed Tony after his confrontation with Ziva exceeded the pain of the summer after they left her in Israel, when he thought she was dead. At first, he'd contemplated why that could be, because Ziva wasn't dead, and he had sworn that no pain would ever be greater than that. After pondering it, though, he realized that it actually made sense. That summer, he had lost Ziva. This time, he had lost so much more.
Part of him figured it was just bad karma built up over the years. He'd always heard people tell him that eventually, all the things he had done would come back to bite him in the ass. Maybe it was just that. Or maybe it was just the universe slapping him in the face for being so uncertain about the baby in the beginning of it all. Maybe if he had handled the situation better, this wouldn't have happened.
But that hardly seemed fair.
That night, after he'd finally dried his eyes enough to drive himself home, he'd laid in his small, twin-sized bed for the longest time, just staring at the ceiling and letting his tears slip down his face, grieving for what he'd lost. He wasn't sure how to deal with this, how to move on. Usually, there was a snide remark, a movie quote, or something else to make it all seem not so bad, but this time, he had absolutely nothing.
He fought with himself the whole night, laying in his bed or pacing his floor. He didn't eat anything, or even attempt to. The television didn't come on, and he didn't consume a single drop of alcohol. He knew that none of those things would make the situation any better. He spent part of the night berating himself, telling himself he should have fought harder, but in the end, he knew he'd done about all he could think to do. He'd approached her from every angle he could think of and pursued each one as far as it would go.
It just hadn't been enough, and now he knew he'd lost both of them, for good. Ziva would never be able to work on the same team as him again. One of them would have to be relocated, and then he'd probably never see her again. It would be for the best, and he knew that, but it wouldn't make it any easier to accept.
He wondered which one of them it would be to get moved, and tried his hardest not to think about when they'd left her in Israel nearly four years ago.
Maybe he would leave this time, and let her stay. He wouldn't feel the same there without her, so it would just be a cleaner break for him to go somewhere else. He had a lot of experience, and he knew finding another job wouldn't be too difficult of a task.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, he made himself a strong coffee and went to work, somehow knowing that Ziva wouldn't be there. When he walked off the elevator, the first person he saw was McGee, who looked troubled.
"What's up, McGoober?" he asked, but his voice didn't fit the statement, and it winded up sounding off.
"Uh, well Ziva called this morning. She's taking her maternity leave sooner than she had originally intended," McGee explained, raising an eyebrow. "She still has a while left, doesn't she?"
Tony shook his head. "She's at 30 weeks. She's got 10 left. Is that a lot?"
"Kind of," McGee shrugged. "What happened?"
Tony closed his eyes, fighting the tears he'd been crying all night. Not at work. "She isn't keeping her." He tried to keep his voice formal, but it cracked anyway.
McGee was silent, and Tony opened his eyes slowly to see a sympathetic expression looking back at him. "Well... did you want her to?"
He nodded slowly. "Yeah, actually. I did."
McGee pursed his lips. "Well," he began. "Maybe you can talk to her, and you guys can-"
"I tried, McGee," he snapped, and then sighed, speaking again with a softer tone. "I tried."
McGee stared at him, and opened his mouth a few times as if he were going to try to say something, but every time, he closed his mouth again, no words forming. Tony could understand that completely. He wasn't entirely sure of what to say either.
Finally, McGee reached out to cup his shoulder, his eyes sympathetic. "I... I'm sorry. M-maybe something will happen and it'll all work out?"
Tony sighed as McGee's hand slipped from his shoulder awkwardly. "Well, that would be nice to believe, wouldn't it?"
McGee looked uncomfortable now, so Tony gave him a quick pat on the arm and told him that he was going to see Abby, saving the probie from having to figure out something else to say.
When he walked into Abby's lab, she turned around, and the smile on her face quickly faded. "Tony?"
He swallowed thickly, bracing himself. "Hey."
She walked toward him, head tilted to one side. "Did... did you talk to her?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I did. It, uh, it didn't go so well."
Abby hesitated, wringing her hands together. He knew what the next words out of her mouth would be, and he knew that she had already figured out the answer. "Well... how exactly did it go?"
He looked down, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. "You... you don't have to worry about giving her a... " he stopped, the word "baby" not being able to get past his lips. "... a shower."
He lifted his eyes back to her, and he could see her mind working in overdrive. "I... I should have thrown it sooner, or talked to her more, or bought her more little cute things, or-"
"Abby, don't," he whispered painfully, a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, blinking a few times to try clearing the moisture in his eyes. "This isn't your fault, and you should not be blaming yourself."
"Well," she said slowly, pacing back and forth. "Maybe you could try talking to her again and-"
"No, Abby," he interrupted her again, fighting to hold on to his sanity. "I tried everything. It's her decision, and... and she chose."
"No, you're the father of that baby, Tony. You have just as much of a say as she does," she told him, and he sighed.
"Yes, Abby. Thank you. I know that I could take my child and raise her without any legal problems whatsoever, but..." He closed his eyes. "Ziva wouldn't like it, and she'd hate me forever, if she doesn't already, and I... I can't do that by myself. I just can't. If she can't have both of her parents, maybe it would just be better for her to be put in a... more stable home."
Abby shook her head, pursing her lips. "That isn't fair, Tony! I think you could do it! And even if you can't, I still think that there's something you can do where Ziva is concerned."
"There isn't, Abby." He rubbed his tired eyes, needing another coffee. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and having to explain it like this was definitely not helping any.
She came to stand right in front of him, one hand on her hip. "You... but you can't just give up."
He laughed a quick, bitter laugh. "I don't really have a choice, Abby. I did all I could."
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't buy it. You have to do something!"
More tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, and he looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard. "Abby, I... I really can't deal with you tearing me apart right now, okay? I've already done it enough myself."
His voice was low, and Abby sighed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Damn it," she muttered angrily, leaning against her table. "Tony, you-"
"Hey Abby," a voice came from her door. "I got this bullet for you. Dr. Mallard just pulled it out of our dead petty officer and so I was just-"
Tony turned to see Jimmy standing in the doorway of Abby's lab, and when Jimmy saw them, he stopped short, his eyes widening.
"Jimmy-" Abby started, but Jimmy talked faster than she did.
"Oh, God, I'm interrupting aren't I? I am. I'm interrupting. I am so, so sorry. Uh, you know what I'm just going to-"
"No, don't worry about it, Palmer." Tony sighed, looking back at Abby. "I was just leaving."
Abby gave him a look that suggested she was considering killing him, but he walked out anyway, avoiding Jimmy's confused gaze when he walked by and not once looking back.
He'd dealt with a lot in his lifetime, and he'd been able to move on, or he'd shoved the memories that caused him pain into the recesses of his brain where they wouldn't bother him, but he couldn't do that with this.
Later that day, he found himself sitting at the break room table, half a cup of cold coffee sitting in front of him, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do. He reached into his jacket pocket, the sonogram still there. It was bent a little on one corner now, but it was otherwise unharmed. He wondered where she would wind up, what kind of life she would have.
Maybe, if he figured out who adopted her, he could talk to them and see if they wouldn't mind him seeing her every once in a while, just to make sure she was doing well. Maybe that would make things a little less painful, knowing she was okay.
Or maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe Abby was right, and there was still something he could do.
He pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to Ziva, erasing and rewriting it ten times before he finally hit send.
Hey, just wanted to see how you were doing. I know things were bad last night, but I just wanted to check in on you.
He sat there staring at his phone for a few minutes, and when she didn't reply immediately, he went back to the squad room, ignoring the look McGee gave him when he walked in. "You finished your paperwork from the McMorris case yet?" he asked, standing in front of McGee's desk.
"Uh... no. I was just about to do it," McGee replied, gesturing to the small stack of paper in front of him.
"Here, I'll do it." Tony picked up the papers, taking them to his desk and starting to work through them.
"Tony, uh, are you-"
"Fine," he interrupted, staring at the piece of paper in front of him but knowing that no matter how hard he tried to work or keep his mind occupied, the weight of the tiny, black and white picture in his pocket would only get heavier.
Ziva never did respond to his message, and he knew he never really expected her to in the first place. After the way they'd fought, he should have known better. If he was in her shoes, he probably wouldn't have replied either.
Besides, what was she supposed to say, anyway?
He had never felt more taken back than when he'd looked at her and saw that emotionless look that he hadn't seen in so long on her face. Maybe she really was trying to do the right thing and keep him from hurting too much at the same time, but if that was her intention, she hadn't done a great job.
She had just winded up making everything really messy from his perspective, and now he was stuck with a broken heart and a future that hurt almost any way he looked at it.
On one hand, Ziva could find a good couple to adopt the baby, but then, they would want it to be a closed adoption, and he'd never get to see his little girl. On another, he could talk to the parents and see how they would feel about the adoption being open to him, just so he could check up on her. Or maybe, somehow, a miracle would happen and Ziva would change her mind before the baby got there.
When he laid down to sleep that night, all those scenarios running through his mind, he knew that only one of them would be what he wanted. Never seeing her would be too painful, but then, having to see her belong to someone else could be just as painful. The only way this would all be okay would be if Ziva decided that she wanted to keep the baby, and that they could be parents.
"We are not risking the wellbeing of our child..."
"With our jobs and our past and everything, maybe we should give her to a more stable home where she will be taken care of, and move on."
"I've already written down the name and number of an adoption agency in another area..."
"You should go."
If only, he thought, that possibility was a little bit more likely.