whoa, I'm alive? yeah, no, I'm pretty dead. Berlin killed whatever was left of me. But as far as updates are concerned, hey, here's one. Sorry it took so long. I have approximately 9 school days and 23 total days until I graduate high school. Plus, I have to write a speech for my graduation and I'm wearing myself out trying to get scholarship applications filled out. And also with NCIS at the point in the season it is right now, I can hardly focus well enough to write. But I'm getting there, promise. And if you're still reading this, you deserve a cookie. Okay, go on now.
"...my water broke..."
"Do you want to be there?"
Tony had dealt his fair share of fears. Children and dogs were near the top of the list of things that scared the daylights out of him, but he'd managed to get past those with a little bit of a push. Hell, he'd been working at NCIS for more years than he cared to count, and had come face to face with danger countless times. Over the course of his employment as a federal agent, he'd been put in compromising situations with killers, kidnappers, and terrorists that could have easily taken his life from him. He'd known the fear that came with knowing you were about to die. Firsthand, he had experienced the "life before his eyes" concept, and firmly decided that the idea was much less climatic in real life than they made it seem in movies. A few times, he'd even felt the terror that accompanied the feeling of life slowly leaving your body, with no power to do anything about it.
But none of that compared to the fear he felt when he'd heard Ziva tell him she was going into labor. Nothing, no training or near death experience, could have ever prepared him for that moment.
When he'd hung up the phone, he'd sat there on his bed for a few minutes, his brain trying to catch up to what was happening despite the fact that he still wasn't completely awake. Somehow, through the haze of his thoughts, he managed to get into his shower. The water was too cold, but still did nothing to increase his alertness. When he got out, he realized that he didn't really feel clean, and found himself trying to remember if he'd used his soap properly.
He was shaking while he was getting dressed, his hands not wanting to function properly enough to button his shirt straight- he had to redo buttons two or three times because he'd buttoned them wrong. It took him three attempts to put his pants on properly, and even when he'd managed to do so, zipping them up was another task entirely.
Throughout this tedious process, he kept hearing her voice over and over in his head. He hated the way she had sounded on the phone. She had sounded almost... scared. And no matter what happened between them, he couldn't stand to hear that in her voice. It took him back to a time when he sat across from her in a place far away from home. She'd been a ghost that day, sitting in front of him despite the fact that she was supposed to be dead. Everything had changed when he saw her, dread lying beneath the surface of her attempt at a tough facade. He'd seen right through it though. He had known she was scared.
That was when a terrorist had been determined to mercilessly torture information out of both of them or just one of them, if it came down to that. When it seemed there was no way that Ziva, McGee, and himself would make it out of there alive. What exactly was she scared of now? Having the baby? Giving the baby away? There were plenty of options to choose from, but which one was the right one? Maybe she was terrified of both. Maybe there was more for her to be afraid of, reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom.
He wasn't sure.
Throughout the process of getting ready, his mind was still working overtime while his body functioned almost robotically. Finally, about the time he was ready to walk out the door, his brain caught up to the situation and realization reared its ugly head. He had just picked up his keys, but had to stop and sit down on his couch for a moment, his heart racing and his nerves jumping erratically.
This was it. Today, he was going to meet his daughter, and then most likely hand her off to someone else. The day he'd had so many different feelings toward was staring him in the face, and now that it was, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Should he be excited about the day his daughter would be born, or should he dread the day that he gives his daughter away?
Going back into his bedroom, he pulled out his daughter's sonogram from his night stand. The edges were a little bent, and it was a little wrinkled, but he could still see her just fine, in the middle of the picture. He wondered what she would look like, how big she would be, if she would look more like him or Ziva. He wondered if she would have her mom's ninja senses or his quirky humor. A tear slipped down his cheek as he ran his thumb over the surface of the picture, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and wake up from this nightmare that he'd been living in for far too long. Sighing, he tucked the picture into his pocket and headed out the door.
His phone rang while he was getting in his car, and the caller ID informed him that it was Gibbs. He hesitated briefly before hitting accept, suddenly terrified of what conversation would unfold when he answered. "Hey, boss."
"You coming?" No formalities, of course, Tony thought.
"Yeah, I just got in my car," he said as he started the engine. "I'm not sure why I'm bothering, but-"
"Because Ziva's here in labor with your kid. That's why," Gibbs interrupted, and Tony sighed, feeling his brief rush of spite dissipating.
"Yeah, but if I meet her, how am I going to be able to give her away?" he asked genuinely, begging for Gibbs to have an answer to the biggest question burning in his mind. He swallowed, his throat feeling too tight.
There was a long pause, and Tony felt tears stinging his eyes. He looked up, blinking, willing himself not to cry while he was on the phone with Gibbs. "Tony..." The sound of his first name coming from the phone startled him, and he listened intently. "I don't know what's going to happen today, other than the fact that Ziva's going to have this baby. But no matter what happens, this is the last chance you're ever going to get to change her mind. So get your ass up here and make it count. Don't just roll over because it's easier. I taught you better than that."
Tony went to respond, but the line went dead, and he put the phone in his pocket. He closed his eyes for smallest span of a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to prepare himself for the long day he knew was ahead of him.
"This is the last chance you're going to get," he repeated to himself, knowing that, as always, Gibbs was right. Glancing at the clock, he told himself that getting some coffee would be his first task when he arrived at the hospital.
There was no way he'd make it through this day without it.
Gibbs met him outside when he got there, his face carefully stern as usual. "She's in room 213," he said, walking inside with him.
"How is she?" Tony asked, unsure of what he was supposed to ask and sticking with something safe.
"Doing fine. Abby's in there with her right now. She's only at two centimeters. We still got a while."
Tony nodded as he processed this information, and he rubbed his palms on his jeans nervously. Gibbs stopped in the hall in front of Ziva's room, turned, and looked at him. "Heartbeat's good. She's in the exact position she should be in. Everything's gonna be fine, DiNozzo."
"I wish I could believe that." His voice winded up being much more somber than he'd intended.
And when Gibbs didn't say anything in return, Tony swallowed. "I'm... I'm going to go get some coffee from the hospital cafeteria."
"Not yet. Go see her first." There was a firm edge to Gibbs' voice that Tony couldn't argue against, but it didn't stop him from trying.
"We haven't really talked in a while, and I need coffee, and-"
"DiNozzo." Gibbs shook his head. "Go."
Frowning, Tony took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Come in," he heard Abby say, and he opened the door. Seeing that it was him, Abby quickly excused herself, much to Tony's dismay, and left.
He took note of the fact that Ziva looked pretty relaxed, trying to ignore all the machines and wires. "Hey." His voice was shaky, and she gave him a weak smile.
"Hey."
Pursing his lips, he sat in the chair Abby had just vacated next to the head of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
She nodded. "I'm fine, just tired. I got a little bit of sleep when I first got here, and then they started having to come in and check on me all the time. They have to keep a check on the contractions, dilation, and... uh... the heartbeat. If... if you listen, you can hear it."
"Yeah, I can hear it," he breathed, listening closely to the rhythmic beating.
"She's pretty close to the sensor for it, so that is why it seems like it is very loud," she explained, and then she bit her lip. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and for the briefest moment, he thought he saw fear hiding behind her gaze. "Tony, I... I am sorry-"
"Don't," he interrupted, not sure if he wanted to drag up the things they should apologize to each other for right now. "Let's just... get through today, okay?"
She nodded slowly, leaning her head back against the hospital's version of a pillow. "This pillow is terrible."
He chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry. Hey, I'm going to go get me some coffee, okay? I'll be around."
He stood, hesitating only briefly before reaching down to push her hair back from her forehead and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. He lingered, whispering "It's going to be okay" against her skin despite the fact that he didn't believe the words. She gave him a look that he couldn't interpret when he pulled back, but he left before he could give it any thought, trying to get the sound of the baby's heartbeat out of his head. Outside, Abby gave him a sympathetic look before going back inside the room. He ignored it. If there was anything he wasn't in the mood to accept at the moment, it was sympathy.
When he rounded the corner to head to the cafeteria, he saw the nursery windows and couldn't help but look inside the one window that didn't have a blind down. There was one baby in the room, a boy, lying on a little bed. A nurse was walking toward him, a blue blanket in her hands. The baby wasn't really crying, but was whining softly. The nurse got to him, a smile lighting up her face. She tucked her pinky finger into his hand, smiling down at him. Almost instantly, the baby quieted and she proceeded to wrap him up.
"Something else, isn't it?" A voice startled him, and he turned to see a man who looked a bit younger than him.
"Uh, yeah," Tony agreed, feeling uneasy.
"He yours?" the man asked, smiling.
"No. Uh..." What was he supposed to say? My baby hasn't been born yet? My baby's mother is in one of the labor and delivery rooms? "No," he said again, sighing.
"That fellow sure looks healthy. Whoever his parents are sure are proud, I bet. I think all parents are proud though, no matter what. It's part of being a parent." The man was babbling insistently, unaware of the tension building in Tony's shoulders.
"Yeah." Tony tried not to snap. "Well, it was nice talking to you."
Then, he turned and walked on down the hall, trying to think of anything but what was happening, because he knew if he let himself think about it too much, he would drive himself insane before he'd even had a chance to get his first cup of coffee.