A/N: Hello...Can you believe I wrote an entire chapter in, like, a day? Yeah. I had a lot of inspiration for this one. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Company Store...Or NCIS.

Gibbs bursts into the house, walking in on us as we end our hug. After giving us a wary glare, he beckons to Abby that it is okay to come in. The Goth girl immediately crosses into the dining room and sets her test kits on the table. An expression of pure excitement—mixed with fear—is proof that her adrenaline is running strong.

Unfortunately, nowhere in Canandaigua is Caf-Pow sold, so I make a mental note that, as a reward, I will buy her another cupcake once we get the go-ahead to leave the house.

Tony unfolds his legs from on the seat beside him and sets his feet on the coffee table, slinging an arm across the back of the couch. I take the empty cushion next to him while Abby performs her tests and Gibbs replaces my prior seat on the coffee table.

"What've you got for me?" Clasping his hands in front of him, he keeps his gaze averted down to prevent us from reading his eyes.

"While Ana was at her 'prenatal appointment' a few days ago, she told me to go shopping. So I did. There's food in the refrigerator…Help yourself, dad." Tony grins. "Yeah, I'm not sure how she pulled it off, but … y'know. She's good."

In fact, I had been very good. After Ducky had called almost a week before, telling me that he had set up an appointment with a doctor friend of his, I had immediately asked Tony how to handle it.

'Just … go in there and do what you have to do. Pee in a cup, right?' He had smiled and draped an arm around my waist.

'Not quite, David,' I had muttered, raising a hand to his cheek. 'It is a full exam.'

'By' full', what do you mean? What kind of doctors' appointment is this?' I had raised an eyebrow. 'Oh…one of those appointments.'

Nodding, I had let out a chuckle as he flushed slightly. 'I have to meet with the obstetrician. So, how do I go about keeping up appearances?' He had immediately grown serious and taken a seat at the counter.

'Mmph. I'd say you should just go in there and tell them you're a friend of Ducky's. He works for NCIS. Everyone knows that … if Ducky referred you to this person, it's safe to assume the lady knows the predicament.'

I had kindly left out that 'the lady' was, in fact, 'the man.' Oops.

"Uncle Roy called…Apparently the doctor is his friend. So he explained the situation and he fit me in." I shrug. "There is not really much more than that."

Doctor Peters told me that I would have to change my pack again. He has worked with undercover assignments before, which is why Ducky called him. All of us can be confident that our secret is safe with him.

Gibbs grunts. "Other than that."

"Oh, right. While I was shopping, I ran into the Town Supervisor," Tony murmurs and Gibbs perks up. "I asked him if he'd heard of the Andrews family and he got all apologetic…Said that if Buck had done anything, he'd personally take care of it."

Our boss gives us a look. His brow is furrowed and his blue eyes glitter curiously. "Past history of making problems?"

Tony nods. "Yeah, I guess. So I made a few calls when I was waiting for Ana to come out, and all I got was, 'That little ruffian! Lay him out if he gets too close!' No one seemed too upset that Buck's missing … Except for one woman."

Gibbs merely looks at him, a silent order to elaborate.

"Oh, right, Dad. She refused to talk about Buck. She said that if I wanted to 'talk about a psychotic, problematic rebel without a cause,' I should take it up with someone he hasn't already hurt." My partner pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it to Gibbs. "Her name is Maria Albert. She lives in Cheshire somewhere."

Abby lets out a 'whoop!' and we all spin around. "Sorry, guys! I just …" Dropping her voice, she whispers, "Prints!" At our questioning stare, she waves for us to come see for ourselves. "They're invisible to the naked eye, but then you do this—" She passes a black-light over the tablecloth. "—and it's like a whole colony! I mean, some of them are from you, Ana, but you're not our killer. At least, I hope you aren't. Because that would be a little—" Gibbs coughs and she breaks out of her ramble. "Sorry, I got carried away. Anyway, you won't believe what I've found. This isn't human blood."

"It's not?" we three ask, leaning over the table.

"Nope! It's the blood of Sus scrofa domestica," Abby proudly states, holding up a test tube. "The domestic pig."

"That sounds like you, honey," I joke, shoving Tony's shoulder. When he looks at me with mock hurt in his eyes, I graze my lips across his briefly. "Kidding."

Abby and Gibbs exchange a confused glance and the Goth quickly continues, "Anyway, it's fresh, so I think it was all a hoax."

"How fresh is 'fresh', Babs?" Gibbs inquires, staring down at the tablecloth in a mixture of disgust and interest.

"I'd say one or two days, including today."

"Son of a bitch." With that, Gibbs has whisked out of the house and across the road to the barn.

"I just fed them this morning …" Tony complains. "There wasn't anything out of place! I checked. I have to do that whole 'parameters' thing."

When we hear a rooster cry and a gunshot soon after, it takes us seconds to get to Gibbs' side.

There in front of him lays a coyote, staring lifelessly up at us.

"The damn thing was going after the chickens." Gibbs shrugs and starts off in the other direction. "You'd better call the DEC. They'll want to know about this to set the other farmers on alert."

When Gibbs is no longer in front of us, Tony walks over and crouches down next to the dead animal. "It's the size of a German shepherd…"

I shake my head. "It is bigger than Tommy's dog."

"Was," Abby argues. "It was bigger than Jethro was." Tears well up in her eyes and she looks away. "Poor Jethro."

"He was a large dog, Babby," I try to console. "They do not live as long."

"But he was my freh-heh-hend," she sobs, throwing herself onto Tony and wrapping her arms around his neck. He holds her there, unsure of what else to do, and for some reason shoots me an apologetic stare. When Abby finally composes her emotions, she lets go of him and walks toward the calf's pen.

Tony approaches me and loops his thumbs through his belt-loops. His elbow intentionally grazes my arm as he stands incredibly close to my side and softly says, "I think we should finish our conversation from earlier…"

I only can manage a noncommittal 'Mm.'

We shall see.

Over dinner, Gibbs tells us his and Abby's findings from Texas.

"It turns out," he mutters before taking a rather large bite of steak and adding as a side-note, "This is really good prime rib." I smile to myself while he continues, "It turns out that Jackson went to college at Our Lady of the Lake University."

"Yeah! And he graduated with his Bachelors of Arts in Criminal Justice, and minored in forensics," Abby cuts in, stealing a potato from Gibbs' plate. "Ana, what spices did you put on these, because they're amazing."

"Rosemary," I answer.

Gibbs looks up and steeples his hands. "Jackson swam on his school's team and went to sectionals. He ran every day and lifted weights whenever he wasn't running."

"How do you know all of this, Dad?" Tony murmurs, taking a long sip of beer.

There is a pregnant pause before Gibbs says, "His wife lives there."

I blink several times, not understanding. I finally ask, "Wife?"

"Yes, Ana. Turns out, Jackson was married." Before Tony gets the chance to speak, Gibbs turns and argues, "And no, David, the wife didn't do it this time."

"How do you know that, Dad?"

"Because she's confined to a bed in the psych ward of a mental hospital there. I talked to her mother."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Maybe the in-laws didn't like Jackson."

"Maybe Jackson didn't like them."

Gibbs goes on to tell us that he and Abby went to visit Martina Jackson in her hospital room after getting the necessary clearance. Abby had been asked to stay in the hallway, as Martina had a violent past with women. The Goth woman had, however, remained in sight of Gibbs, who had communicated with her in sign language

Both had found out that Martina is a recovering schizophrenic, slowly making her way out of the acute stage. She was, however, able to use metaphors and riddles to help convey events for the two NCIS employees. In this way, she told Gibbs that Jackson had been abusive and adulterous throughout their marriage.

"No one else seems to think that about him, though," Tony murmurs. "I did my research. Everyone says Jackson was a nice guy with a successful past."

"Why would a woman lie about his treatment of her, though?" I wonder aloud. "She is suffering from a mental disease …"

"Yeah, Ana, that's why I did my own digging and talked to her mother." Gibbs pulls out his wallet and withdraws a slip of paper. "She told me to call this number. She said it's someone who can help us."

"Mmph," Tony utters, "Sure." Taking the paper, he dials it into his cell phone. "Hello, is this—" He scans the paper for a moment. "—Helene Morgan?" There is a brief pause. "This is Special Agent …" Tony casts a nervous glance around the table before smiling and saying, "Special Agent Timothy McGee, from NCIS.—Yes, that's us.—Oh, you did?" He scribbles something down on the piece of paper and tosses it to Gibbs, who raises an eyebrow. "Oh, right.—Oh, she's your sister?"

We all watch him carry out the subtle interrogation. When he hangs up, Gibbs is the first to speak.

"What'd she have to say, David?"

Tony's smile has faded and in its place is a slight pout. "She didn't like Jackson, boss. She was really adamant about it, too. I guess he never actually hit Mrs. Jackson, but he didn't want kids and he forced her to get an abortion the one time she got pregnant."

"So that's what she meant by, 'I tied a knot by eating a baby, but the knot came undone when the Bear came home,'" Abby murmurs, reading off of her Blackberry. "That's horrible. She was just trying to keep him around and make a home for herself …"

I don't stay around long enough to hear the rest of the story.

"Ana?" Tony's voice says softly at the door. "Ana, are you feeling okay?"

I shake my head, forgetting that he cannot see me.

"I can't hear you shake your head, you know. You're going to have to say words." I laugh at his ability to read me. "I can tell you're not okay. Please let me in, Ana?" Grudgingly, I rise off of the rocking chair and open the door. The nursery is finally completed, with Gibbs' and Abby's help. Though he remained quiet throughout the process, and refused to talk about the nursery other than paint color, I knew that he had emotional ties to the principle of it.

I had asked him one day when he was putting the finishing touches on the moulding about why he had chosen Winnie the Pooh as a theme. He had turned to me, a small but sad smile playing on his face, and told me that Kelly's bedroom had been centered around the little, honey-obsessed teddy-bear. Shannon had fallen in love with the Hundred Acre Wood many years prior. It was something that he felt very strongly about recreating. Who was I to say no to that?

Unfortunately, there will never be a baby to live in it and make all of his work worthwhile.

"Wow, it's really nice," Tony coos, stepping around me to examine the border on the walls. "Winnie the Pooh quotes?" I smile and nod, but say nothing. He crosses the room to me. "Come on, Ana. Tell me what's wrong." Taking both of my hands, he wraps my arms around his waist and holds me to him.

After a long internal debate about actually telling him, I finally decide to do so. In one breath, I state, "I want to have a baby." I am not Ana now. I am Ziva. Hopefully, Tony will be able to see that.

He is silent for a while before stepping back and looking into my eyes. "Are you serious right now?"

"Completely."

"Zeev, what…why?" His blue eyes are wide.

"I want the American Dream. Husband, children, house, pets, car." I turn my back and focus on the small, pink rabbit nightlight that Abby bought at the Company Store. "I just…do."

Tony says nothing, but I can feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head. After a few minutes, he quietly says, "You will. Someday."

I shake my head. "I am almost thirty," I murmur. "Sooner or later, my time will be up."

"You're twenty-eight, Ziva. Hell, you have at least seven years before you have to worry." His voice is strained.

"Tony, do you not get it? Women want love, and companionship, and marriage…"

His broad palm rests on my shoulder. "You don't think you're loved?" he asks softly. "You don't think you've got your three compadres? In fact, you've got more than that. How's that for companionship?" I turn around and see that I am inches from him. "Just because you're not married, and you don't have a boyfriend, doesn't mean you're unloved."

I stare up at him. "Tony, that is not what I meant …"

"What did you mean? Because we love you, Ziva. All of us. Abby, Gibbs, McGee, Ducky, Palmer …" Tony pauses and takes a deep breath. "Me."

Smirking, I murmur, "You love me?"

Without skipping a beat, he replies, "Yes."

I love you, too.

A/N: Mmk, so I've been having the same fears as Ziva is having...And I'm nine years younger than she is. I had no idea that Ziva was only twenty-eight. She seems a lot older. Tony's thirty-nine. That's nine years between them. That's not too bad...Right? :) Hopefully, everyone caught the Season 8 Premiere! If you haven't ... well, watch it, and then my next statement will make sense (and hopefully just the wording will give you incentive to watch/rewatch!): Tiva moment? Did everyone catch it? Seriously, amazing stuff right there. I believe I may have to refer to the 'tan-line' statement. ::winks at you all:: If only Tony could notice my tan-lines...I would definitely marry Tony. Seriously. Ziva'd better be careful. Okay, keep a lookout for the next chapter!