He comes into the apartment, and closes the door behind himself. He looks around the apartment. He notices that it's too quiet. She should be home. She left an hour before he did. He had stopped to pick up dinner, and even if she had gone for a run she would be home by now. He sits the bag of take out on the counter.
"Zi?" he calls out.
"In here," she replies in an unusual tone.
"In where?"
"The bathroom."
"Oh. I'll wait."
"You can come in, I've been in here a while," she admits.
"I..." he stares at the closed door.
"Just come in here."
He opens the door, stopping in the doorway. He finds her sitting on the floor, against the bathtub. She's already in her pajamas. She sits on the rug, with her legs crisscrossed.
"What are you doing down there?"
"I don't want to get up."
"Why not? Did you do something to hurt yourself?"
"No. Unlike you I don't throw my back out, getting in and out of the shower."
"That was one time, and I still blame you for that."
"Have a seat," she points to the toilet.
He nods, and puts the lid down. He sits on top of the lid. He allows a few moments of silence to pass.
"What are we doing, sitting in the bathroom?"
"Waiting."
"For what?"
"I was waiting for you to get home."
"Why?"
"Because we need to talk."
"Ziva, we cannot have all of our meaningful conversations in the bathroom. I mean at work is one thing, but we're at home. There is no one here to hear us. This is getting a little bit ridiculous."
"I came in here, and... I just couldn't leave."
"Why not?"
"We've got a little problem."
"A little problem? Ziva we have a lot of little problems, and some big ones too."
"I don't mean with our relationship."
"I don't understand. What has you sitting in the bathroom, on the floor, waiting for me to get home?"
"Did you look at the counter when you walked in?"
"No, why? Should I have? Is there a bomb sitting there, or something?"
"Do you hear something ticking?" she responds.
"No."
"Look at the counter."
He looks at the counter. He sees a box sitting on the counter top, next to the sink.
"I might be pregnant," she announces.
"I got that from the open box, that says pregnancy test on it."
"You don't have to be such a smartass."
"What makes you think that you're pregnant?"
"I don't know, what usually makes people think that they're pregnant?"
"Now you're being smart."
"Sorry. Did you take it yet?"
"Yes."
"Then why are you still sitting on the floor?"
"I was waiting for you to get home, to look at it."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to know, yet."
"Why not? I would imagine you would be anxious about finding out."
"I am."
"You're not good at waiting, so why did you?"
"Because I wanted to talk to you, before I found out."
"About what?"
"I'm pregnant?"
"And? It might not be mine?" he guesses.
"Right," she lies.
"What is there to talk about?"
"Tony I could be pregnant. I think that is a conversation piece, don't you?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Something, anything."
"Are you happy about this? Are you upset?"
"I... I don't know," she shrugs, "How am I supposed to feel, about potentially bringing a child into this mess. We are a mess. We can't seem to work our problems out now. I can't imagine it will be any easier, with a baby."
"Are you saying that you don't want to have it, if you are?"
"I'm just saying, I think that it's a bad idea. We can't even tell people that we're married. How are we supposed to tell them that we're having a baby? I don't want a have a child whose life is built on secrets, and lies."
"I want you to have it. I know that it's your choice."
"So then why are you telling me..."
He cuts her off, "Because I want you to know how I feel. I want you to have it. I don't care if it's mine, or not. I know we have a lot of things that we need to work out. I know that we have things that we need to fix, but if you are, I think you should have it. I don't care if it's mine, or not. Ray is married to his job. He is never going to be able to be there for you, and for the baby. He'll try, but he'll never succeed. To be honest, I don't even want him to know. I would prefer that you had it, and... I want it, even if it's not mine. I will be there, even if it's not mine. If we can't make it work, if we can't be together, I would still want to be there, for the baby."
"That's good to hear."
"Why?"
"Because you're the only person that it could belong to."
"Why did you lie to me?"
"I wanted to give you an out."
"I don't want out. I want in. I told you, I'm all in."
"Ok."
"Ziva, are you ok?"
"I'm fine," she lies.
"Don't lie to me. Are you ok?"
"No, I'm not ok. I'm scared. How are we supposed to do this? How am I supposed to do this? This isn't the right time. I'm freaking out. Our marriage is... falling apart, and we might be having a baby. A baby isn't going to fix anything, it will just make things worse."
"If you don't want to do this, you don't have to."
"And that will be our breaking point. You'll never forgive me if I don't."
"It's not about what I want. It's up to you."
"I am afraid that things will turn out badly. I am afraid that you're going to leave me. I am scared to death, but... I want to do it. If I am, I want to keep it."
"Ok. That's ok," he smiles, sliding onto the floor with her. He holds her against him, as she lets the tears fall. He pets her head. "There's no one I'd rather have a baby with," he admits.
"You're just saying that."
"It's true. It'll be good looking, and smart."
"Because that is the important thing."
"It will be perfect. That being said, we should probably find out whether you are, or not, before we break out the name book."
"Ok," she agrees. He lets go, but she doesn't move. She looks at him.
"I'll look," he lifts himself off the floor. He walks over to the counter, and dumps the contents of the box onto the counter.