A/N: Mm, so I had a lot of inspiration for this one. Like, a lot-a lot. Hope you enjoy it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS (unfortunately), Ob-Gyns (mm, who would really want to, though?), Rosie Thomas, or Dean Martin.

Lying in bed, I have the overwhelming urge to reach over and kiss Tony, just to see if it will make me feel better. Once again, I am lying awake while my partner sleeps soundly. Before, when we were undercover, his sleeping habits annoyed me. He was such a restless sleeper, yet he accused me of snoring? I do not believe him… But now? I do not know why, but there is what seems like a magnetic pull, tempting me to move closer to him. However, I force myself to resist.

Our discussion two weeks ago in the nursery still rings in my ears at least once a day. He said he loved me.

But he could not have meant 'love' in that way. No, of course not. It would be preposterous to even consider that he loved me as anything more than a friend. A colleague.

A companion.

"Mmph," Tony mumbles through sleep, "Ana, stop thinking and just go to bed, would you?" His eyes open slightly but I can see the shimmery blue from between his thick eyelashes. He offers a small smile and I can only think of how peaceful he looks. He is—dare I say it—beautiful.

"I can't," I state simply, but softly, slightly tensing when I feel his thumb tracing my jaw. He is still looking at me with his gorgeous, heavily-lidded blues, asking me the unvoiced question of, Why not? Shaking my head, I answer him, "There is too much on my mind."

"What helps you sleep?"

I stare at him for a moment before whispering, "Lullabies." From the time I was a small child, I have often fallen asleep to the sound of a soft song. Rosie Thomas is at the top of my list. No one knows that, not even Becky.

Tony raises a sleepy eyebrow and murmurs, "Would you like me to sing you a lullaby, Ana?" When I hesitate, he pulls me closer and I find myself pressed against his bare chest, his face beside my ear. Quietly—and, I notice, intimately—he begins to sing. "I didn't mean to find it out, though it's really nothing new. We laid our cards on the table, baby. He was holding you…"

I feel myself snuggling against his shoulder but do nothing to stop. "I did not know you listened to Ricky Nelson."

"It's a classic, Ana. Of course I listen to him." His hand gently slides around my waist and rests on my lower back. The next lines are almost a purr, they are so soft. "Well, some you win, and some you lose, and some you tie in knots. Seems love is what I'm always givin', and never what I've got…"

I softly chuckle against him. "How do you know you do not ha—" Before I can finish my sentence, Tony has begun the chorus.

"So saddle my dreams, I'll be riding again, hiding my sorrow inside. Saddle my dreams, I'll be riding again, borrow some truth to pay for all your lies." His soft question of, "Are you sleeping yet?" is met with silence, because I am barely conscious. I feel him laugh, press his lips to the crown of my head, and continue with the following verses. Soon, however, I am in a sound, sound sleep.

When I wake up the following morning, Tony's side of the bed is empty. I send a cursory scan across the room and then my ears kick in, the sound of water streaming in the bathroom.

I rise to my feet and cross the room to knock three times on the door.

"Yeah, Ana?" he calls, muffled by the sound of the shower.

"Just checking to see where you are, darling," I tell him, trying the doorknob. He left it unlocked. For a reason? I retrieve my makeup, a slightly larger pregnancy pack, and some clothes and slip into the bathroom, trying to ignore the fact Tony is naked in the shower.

"…Hey, goomba, I love how you dance the rumba but take some advice, paisano: learn-a how to mambo. If you're gonna be a square, you ain't-a gonna go nowhere…" Tony sings, lathering his hair with ocean-scented shampoo. "That's the one good thing about my father, you know. He had a taste for the classics."

I look past the fact he is talking to me while he is showering—naked, no less—and reply with a laugh. "Eli liked the classics as well. The Churchills were his favourite, closely followed by The High Windows."

Tony takes a while answering. "Never heard of either of them."

"They're some of the first rock bands of Israel, David."

"Oh."

I apply a thin layer of powder and follow it by bronzer, all while humming Hayal Shokolad. Or, Chocolate Soldier. For the past few years, I had immediately thought of Michael every time this song had played. This is the first time I have ever been able to not think of him. It is also the first time I have related a song to Tony…

"You have a pretty voice, you know. You should sing more often," Tony mumbles, turning off the water. I turn to see him stepping out of the shower, an over-sized green towel wrapped low around his hips. I fight off a shiver, focusing my attention more on my eyeliner and shadow. "No, really, Ana, you should."

Smirking, I answer, "Perhaps when our baby is born, I will sing him to sleep, yes?" I finish my makeup with a single coat of mascara and some nude lipstick. After pressing my lips together, I turn to him and smile. "You have a nice voice too, David." He shrugs and leaves the bathroom to change. In his absence, I slip off my tank top and pull the pack over my head, positioning it at my naval. Reveling in the feel of satin on my arms, I button up a blue blouse over the pack and cringe as I button a pair of jeans—a whole size and a half larger than what I am accustomed to wearing.

Before walking out into the bedroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and absentmindedly raise my hands to rest on my stomach, mesmerized by the image. I am so caught up with my reflection that I barely hear Tony's soft "`Scuse me" as he squeezes by. He stops dead in his tracks, though, when he, too, sees my image in the mirror. A light blush rises in both my cheeks and his, and after a curt nod, he retrieves what he had come in to get and leaves.

"Are you okay?" I call after him.

"Yeah, it's just difficult for me to understand that this is really happening," he murmurs, gathering the dirty clothes from his corner of the room. "I mean, four and a half months and we're going to have a kid

"This is true." I follow Tony, cornering him on the far side next to a bureau. "Do you want to know the gender?"

"Uh …"

"David, I have a doctors' appointment today. I am far enough along that I can have a gender test done … do you want that, or no?" I am greeted with blank eyes. "It is a simple answer. Yes or no? Surprise or not?"

He takes a moment to think before bluntly stating, "Not. I want to know now. I'll go with you." Grinning, I grab my purse and take his hand, dragging him from the room. "But I'm driving!"

"Ana and David Stadelvard?" the nurse calls from a door on the opposite side of the waiting room. "Doctor Owens will see you now." There is a smile on her face as she gestures for Tony and me to go through the door, that makes me feel somewhat uncomfortable. I take note of her name-tag. 'Penny' leaves us in the examination room and I hop up onto the table.

Tony smirks and murmurs, "I must say, Ana, I love the way our names sound together. Makes us seem dignified."

"We are dignified, David. Those in love are dignified." I stare at him, half wishing he would come and kiss me to prove my point, but the other half wanting the appointment to be over.

When Doctor Owens walks in, he locks the door before saying anything. "Well, Ana, what's your plan for today? Are you going to have the test done?" Tony and I both nod. "Excellent! How exciting." He presses a button on a NetBook and we are immediately connected to Ducky's lab. "Doctor Mallard! How are you today?"

"Oh, I am doing marvelously, Geoffrey. Have you our guests in your examination room?" Ducky immediately smiles and says, "I take that back. Hello, Ana, David."

"The room is sound-proof, Ducky. You can speak freely," Doctor Owens informs us all. "I'll leave you to undressing and getting ready, then." He swiftly exits the room.

"Ducky, have you found anything?"

"Well, Lance Corporal Jackson died from more than just blunt force trauma and a pistol to the head. I took a sample of the poor man's lung to Abby and she found traces of tetrahydrocannabinol, cyanide, and carbon monoxide."

Tony's brow furrows and he mumbles, "Marijuana? Since when does that kill people?"

"Nothing kills people, Anthony. People kill people. But I was not finished." Ducky pulls a folder out from beside him. "Abby also found traces of arsenic and belladonna in Mr. Jackson's blood." Holding up a Petri dish, he smiles and elaborates, "Poison, and nightshade." My heart sinks.

"How d'you think he was poisoned, Ducky?" Tony asks, leaning forward to examine the sample. "Accidental?"

"Oh, no, my dear boy. There is not a doubt in my mind that this was premeditated." The elder man sets the dish down and nods. "Ziva, you seem to recognize these clues."

I shake my head. "Not from this case, but from another I investigated years ago, with Mossad," I explain. "A man associated with a drug cartel left them, and his boss did not care for his abandonment of his 'family.' He sent him cigars as a type of bait for the man to return to the cartel, or so it appeared."

"What were they really?" Tony asks.

"Poison. Nightshade leaves were finely chopped and added to the tobacco; the two were then sprinkled with arsenic and the mixture was rolled into the paper." Staring down at my hands, I murmur, "I think we found our drug cartel."

Tony shifts his weight beside me and I feel his arm subtly brush against mine. "Thank you for the info, Ducky. We'll call again soon!"

The effervescent Medical Examiner beams up at us. "That sounds lovely, Anthony." Before we hit the 'end call' button, he holds up a finger and says, "Oh, and Ziva, you're looking positively glowing." After a small smile, the call is ended and Tony and I are once again alone.

"I miss him," I state to no one in particular. "Anyway, We should probably tell Gibbs what we have found, yes?"

"Yeah, but can we get some lunch first?" Tony gives me all but a puppy pout and I laugh, playfully shoving him. "How about that cute little place you took me before?"

"After they run the tests…"

"What exactly do you have to do?"

"Ultrasound is the only thing that I feel comfortable doing," I explain. Actually, that is really the only thing for them to do. The baby is not real. Therefore, there is no amniotic fluid or chorionic villi to test. Tony stares at me like I have grown another head. "What?"

"They're actually going to run an actual ultrasound on your actual stomach?" he asks, completely flabbergasted.

I raise my eyebrows. "Contrary to what you may have learned, a baby does not grow in my stomach, Tony. They are going to be looking at my uterus." He squirms and I cannot help but give him a Gibbs-slap. "Grow up. Someday, you will have children. And your wife—whoever that may be—will drag you to all of her appointments."

"Let's just…okay." Tony looks at the machine and at that moment, Doctor Owens walks in. "We're ready!"

The doctor laughs at what could appear to be Tony's apparent excitement over the event. "Well, that's good to hear. Ana, I'm going to ask you to unbutton your blouse—" He drops his voice to murmur, "and take off the pack," before returning to a normal volume. "—and lie on your back. David, you can take a seat anywhere."

"I'm not leaving her side…" There is something oddly comforting about his curious devotion. "Wait, I still don't get it. You're actually doing this?"

"I have to run the machine or no one will believe it," Doctor Owens explains. "You can keep the pictures. I don't need them."

"What, of her empty uterus?" Tony snaps. "Isn't this just filling her with unnecessary radiation?"

"Trust me, this is a routine practice. There's no radiation involved. Promise." While I have been obeying his requests, he has turned on the machine and retrieved a tube of ultrasound gel from a drawer. "Now, this will be a bit cold…" I twitch a bit as the cool goo makes contact with my skin and watch as he presses the transducer probe onto my 'pregnant'—but flat—stomach. "Go ahead and take a look at the screen."

"Yup, that looks cool," Tony mutters. "Not much to look at."

Scoffing, Doctor Owens tells him, "But you can tell she is an active woman, sir. Strong uterine walls and muscles around them." He moves the probe below my bellybutton. "I see something odd right here, though." On the screen, he points to a small, dark line on the otherwise flawlessly grey background. "Ana, have you ever been pregnant?"

"No," I murmur, and it is not completely untrue. I can remember being taken to a hospital tent by one of the guards in Somalia. After a particularly nasty session with Saleem, Khaldun was worried that I would either be pregnant or never be able to become pregnant. I was bleeding internally, so they performed surgery. That was the scar. The only evidence of any compassion I had experienced while being captive. Unfortunately, the guard paid for that compassion with his life.

How I can explain this to the doctor and Tony, however, is another story. In an attempt to avert attention, I lie, "Erm … yes." My eyes dart to Tony, who has put on an extremely hard exterior. His shoulders are slouched and tense. While he holds my hand, he refuses to look at me, focusing instead on the screen.

I wish he would look at me, but I cannot force him. I vow to explain the situation later.

Whether he will listen is a different story.

I stand outside the kitchen later that night, listening as Tony berates Gibbs about the appointment. "She had an abortion, Boss. Do you know what kind of moral shit that goes against?"

"Uh, yeah, David, I do," comes Gibbs' even tone. "But that's not your responsibility, or your business."

Tony paces across the room. I can hear his footsteps and take a step away from the door, though I can still hear him, just so he cannot see me. "Boss, it's different, though. What if Saleem got her pregnant? What if he performed the abortion himself? Oh my God, what if—"

"There're a lot of 'what ifs' in that sentence, David, and not a lot of facts." Gibbs' voice has dropped considerably and I have to strain my ears to hear him. "You and Ana have something, and while sometimes I question your behavior, you're both good people. And I have to hand it to you two; you're professional." There is a lull in conversation, and for a moment I think it is over. Our boss surprises me by saying, "The bugs are off. Speak."

My partner sighs. "Gibbs, I just worry about her."

"I used to worry about Jenny."

"Yeah," Tony argues, "But you had a reason to. Ziva's different. She's strong. She can take care of yourself, you know?"

Gibbs only murmurs, "Yeah," and swirls something in his glass, the ice clinking. "Sometimes even the strongest women need some saving, DiNozzo."

"I can't save her, Boss."

"Maybe you already did."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it... :) I had to do a lot of research about chemistry and ultrasound machines and pregnancy and poisons. I think anyone sitting next to me in the library thought I was a freak. But, I hope it was worth it. Love, Kathryn

PS: When imagining Tony singing, I find it helps to not imagine the season four hobo-Tony singing about Le Grenouille and watching them eat outside a restaurant. (Which, if you have not seen, you must watch on YouTube. Just look up, "Tony DiNozzo Song" and it should be in the first few results.) If you want a clearer image of singing, sexy, sleepy DiNozzo, look up 'Bitter and Blue' or any of the five songs on his demo album. If any of you are interested... :D http:/www. youtube. com/watch?v=dxlGvxsGBg4 (without spaces, of course.) That is the song Tony was singing to Ziva. And, hmm, ironically enough...Is that not Gibbs? ::winks:: Anyway. Tah!