A/N: ::smiles:: I really don't have much to say about this chapter...So...Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Bummer, right?

I do not have to see Tony's face to know he feels betrayed. I turn to him, hoping that a small smile will right the damage I have caused by my secrets. It does not, however, and that night before we go to bed, I find myself crossing the room toward him.

Before I can reach my partner, he softly asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

I blink several times. "Tell you what?"

"That you were pregnant, Ziva! That you gave up your baby," Tony barks, then pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I was not pregnant, and I did not give up any baby," I reply, my voice a whisper. "They thought I was." His face snaps up to look at me.

"Who's 'they'?"

"Saleem and one of his guards." My voice wavers. "I…have not told anyone." His expression melts and he pats the empty seat next to him on the bed. I sit next to him, angling my knees so that they just barely touch his. "Saleem raped me that night. But it was not just that. He…" Closing my eyes, I try to work up the nerve to say it. "Tony, you must promise me something." I gently open my eyes to look at him, to show him the severity of what I have to tell him.

"That depends, Zeev." His voice is husky, his eyes the deepest blue I have seen in a while.

"Please, do not get angry."

"Easier said than done, but I'll do my best." We sit in silence for what seems like hours, until I finally decide to come out with it. My eyes squeezed shut so that I do not have to look at Tony's face when he hears the news, I slowly begin.

"He had a staff. It was mahogany and gold, and it had a round ball on the top end." Sighing, I tangle my fingers together in my lap. "He did not feel I had served him well that night. He wanted me to suffer." Tony says nothing. "He—he tied me against the wall and took out his knife."

"No," he gasps. I nod and lift my shirt and the bottom of the pack just enough to reveal a scar on my lower abdomen, that no one would be able to see unless looking for it. Any encounter thus far with Tony had kept his mind elsewhere. I had told him not to touch anything lower than my bellybutton. I had kept him occupied with kissing and not faux foreplay and up until now, no one had known the scar was there except for me.

When Tony sees it, he draws in what sounds like a hiss. However, I plow onward, knowing that if I stop talking for too long, I will never finish.

"I cried out in pain and got punished for it. Not only was I still in pain after he slept with me, but I was also bitter. Since I was tied to the wall, he had one of his guards come in and hold down my feet. I was still unclothed so…" In my peripheral vision, I see both Tony's jaw and fist clench. "So it was easier."

A few moments go by without any more of my story and Tony finally asks quietly, "What was easier, Ziva?"

I take in a shaky breath and then slowly let it out, praying I can keep my composure. I am on the brink of losing it, after suppressing these thoughts for so long. "It was easier for him to put … to put the staff …"

"No," Tony hisses, visibly tensing. "He didn't…?"

"He sodomized me with the staff," I finally blurt, "and tore my cervix. It was the worst pain I had ever felt, and it rendered me unconscious, but by the time I woke up in my cell six hours later …" I try to remember. "By that point, the guards had rushed me over to the hospital tent and they had done emergency surgery to close the wound. I could have died. And I would have, and then Saleem never would have gotten the information he so desperately wanted about NCIS, so they had to save me."

"So that's..."

"Yes, Tony, that is the scar you saw today. I did not have an abortion." I rise and make my way over to the window seat.

I do not know he has followed me until I hear him whisper in my ear, "I'm sorry, Ziva."

For the second time this year, I turn around and look at him. "I should have told you sooner. It is I who am sorry."

Tony shakes his head. "You went through hell, Zeev. You … it's your right to keep it to yourself. I just wish …" I can finish his sentence for him, although he does not verbalize it. I just wish I could have been the one to kill him.

I look up at him and place a gentle hand behind his neck. "It is in the past. All we have to hold onto is the future." Searching his eyes, I know we both feel the pull between us.

It only takes a moment for his lips to meet mine. Even thought the kiss itself lasts just as long, what stands behind it is more important.

Weeks pass. Thanksgiving nearing, we are struggling to find time to shop, decorate the house, and investigate.

As I sit at the kitchen table, looking up the one curried stuffing recipe I had used a few years prior, Tony's arm slips around my waist.

"I did some digging," he murmurs. "I think we should take a walk, Ana. You've been sitting in front of that thing for an hour." I subconsciously move my head to grant him more access to my neck, which he has taken to nuzzling.

"I have to find the recipe. After that we—A-hah!" I click a link that leads me to the correct list of ingredients. "Okay, grab my coat. I will meet you on the porch."

Note to self: When you are actually pregnant, do not sit on low benches.

Even though the packs are just that—packs—they still enable you to feel as though you are pregnant. I learned this the hard way, when I tried to sit on the floor for meditation. When I was done, I rolled over and attempted to stand. Part of the pack had pressed against both my hip and my bladder and I had collapsed, paralyzed for a second. Unable to get up, I'd had to wait for Tony to come back to the house.

He had been of little help, of course, as for a good five minutes he had just stood there laughing at me before extending his hand to help me up.

After that experience, I have taught myself how to use objects as leverage. I push myself up from the bench, bracing my hands against the table. Then I hear the click of a camera and spin around. "Not funny, Tony. Delete the picture."

"Aw, but you're so cute, too." He grins impishly at me before extending his arm, my jacket slung over it. "I found something written on one of the stalls that I thought you'd like to see." I look at him. Oh, clues, I love how you decide to surface two months into a case, I think darkly before looping my elbow through his.

The air is brisk and clear, nipping at my cheeks and ears. This is my favorite weather.

"So, where is it?" I murmur, breathing deeply and shoving my hands in the pockets of the new hound's-tooth coat Abby had bought me. "Or is it not?"

"It's in the first stall." Tony leads me toward the horses. "This one is Aaleyah," he murmurs, stopping in front of the stall of a beautiful chestnut beast. "She likes oats. Dad gave her some and I have been ever since because she liked them so much." In the stall is a bag of what looks to be weeds, just out of the horses' reach. He nudges me and murmurs, "I think her name should really be 'Mary Jane,' though. She seems like a classic woman."

Marijuana. Hmm…

I nod and look past Aaleyah and point toward a black horse in the stall next to hers. "And who is that handsome fellow?" I ask, walking around Tony and petting the horse's nose. "Hello, beautiful."

"He—" He places a hand on the small of my back. "—is Naldo. He doesn't like oats as much. He's more of a molasses-sweet-feed guy. Very gentle."

I am captivated by their gorgeous, big eyes and long lashes. My hand glides over Naldo's silky, strong shoulders, leaning my chin against the stall door. "David," I murmur dazedly, "I want to ride one."

"No, no," Tony argues. "I don't think that's a good idea. Remember, the doctor said after twelve weeks…the whole 'placebo dismemberment' and whatever…"

I shoot him a disapproving look. "The term is 'placental detachment,' David. Pay attention. And I will not necessarily detach the placenta. Not if we go slowly enough."

"Oh, I'm sorry that I don't have …" Tony makes 'voodoo fingers' at my abdomen. "…that stuff."

Shaking my head, I place both hands on his hips and put my face as close to his as I can. "David, I want to ride. And what Ana wants…"

He rolls his eyes, and with a shake of his head, he concedes, "—Ana gets. I know, I know. But no more than a walk, okay? I don't want placebo—I mean…placental detachment."

Although I was itching to break into a trot—and then a full gallop—I resisted and reveled in the feel of Tony's arms around me as we slowly rode Naldo across the field. His reward to me for being good is the cup of hot apple cider I am now holding in my hands as I sit in his lap in front of the gorgeous slate fireplace. Abby and Gibbs have been gone for a week, again, and we can finally bask in the feeling of playing house alone…again.

I am broken out of my daydream—of teaching my children how to ride horses someday—when Tony gently takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips for a brief moment.

"How's the cider?" he asks, his voice low.

Resting my head back on his shoulder, I whisper, "The best I have had in a while."

"That's because I added a touch of cinnamon. Grandma's secret." In my ear, he murmurs, "Shh, don't tell anyone," before placing a kiss on my neck.

I can only manage a soft 'Mmmmm,' but he seems to accept that as a solid promise.

"So, Mrs. Stadelvard, do you have any plans this evening?" Tony presses his lips to the curve of my neck and shoulder. "I was wondering if you would accompany me to a movie." He takes the mug from my hand and sets it up on a table somewhere behind him.

"Well, that would be lovely, if I did not already have plans with my husband." I roll over and ease him down onto his back.

He smiles up at me. "Mm, and, if I may ask without intruding, what will these plans entail?" I trace his bottom lip with the tip of my finger, making sure my touch is feather-light. His eyes flutter shut, his lips parting slightly.

"I was wondering if you knew the dimensions of the claw-foot tub upstairs, actually. I thought perhaps it might be big enough to fit two people into it." A small smirk curves the corner of his mouth up.

"Oh, from what I saw earlier, you most certainly could fit two adults." Tony's hand comes down to rest on the side of my pack. "But what about three?"

I blush slightly, having forgotten about my fake pregnancy for a second, but wink. "I have books."

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Tony slides from beneath me and rolls into a standing position, offering a hand to stabilize me while I, too, rise to my feet. He swiftly picks me up and cradles me in his arms, carrying me down the hall and up the stairs. When we get to the bathroom, he sets me down on the edge of the tub and murmurs, "Think they bought it?"

"They had better have, because I refuse to let those red-throats ruin our lives anymore, Tony." Looking him in the eye, I complain bitterly, "I saw Andrews Senior peeking out from behind the tractor earlier when we were riding our horses. And yesterday, he was slinking around behind the barn around the horse stalls."

Tony nods. "I know, Zeev. They're acting really suspiciously. I was thinking of taking a drive over there and asking how the search for Buck's going, since none of us have heard anything."

I almost offer to go with them, but stop myself. A pregnant woman should never confront a potentially dangerous man.

By the time Thanksgiving has rolled around, I am beginning to 'grow' even larger than before. I have taken to sleeping on my side, with Tony's arm around me to keep me propped up, because even in sleep, I have to wear the pregnancy pack. Gibbs' promise of only four months undercover seems to have gone forgotten, and my patience is wearing thin.

Clearing the table after our large family 'banquet,' with guests including Ducky, Palmer, Tim, Abby, and Gibbs, has proven difficult. As I am struggling over the threshold of the kitchen door, two hands firmly grasp the sides of the serving platter we had used for the turkey. I glance around the tall stack of dishes and see that Gibbs is on the other side of them.

"Thank you, Leroy," I murmur, a small smile adorning my face. "I hope it was as delicious as I intended."

"Well, Ana," he grins back, "I'm not sure I've ever had curried stuffing or sweet potatoes, but they were pretty damn good." Tony squeezes past us with a glass of wine. He is wearing a high-collared sweater, much like those he wore when I first started at NCIS, and a pair of dark jeans. Finishing his look is a pair of fluffy moccasins, with fur sticking out the rims. Gibbs and I exchange amused looks and my boss mutters, "I hope he helped you."

It is not a complete lie when I nod and tell Gibbs, "He did a fair share of the work." Tony had not only washed out the turkey, marinated it, and stuffed it, but had also helped me by cutting the potatoes I had peeled into large chunks. In addition, he had watched the pots and stirred their contents any time I had rushed to the bathroom.

The whole 'unknown-object-within-the-pack pressing on bladder' ordeal is growing very tiresome.

"Well, if it's any consolation, the food wasn't the only beautiful thing here," the older man compliments, bowing his head in respect and turning around to deliver the dirty plates to the sink. I feel someone poke my back and find Abby all but hopping behind me. An excited grin is spread across her child-like face.

"I know Christmas is right around the corner but when you told us you were having a baby girl it was just too much and I had to get this for you. Open it!" The Goth thrusts a bag toward me and I cannot help but take it. "I hope you like it. It kind of reminded me of things I've seen in movies, or in your pictures. You know, that one album you kept in your desk back in Virginia? Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you … I'm a snoop."

I shake my head in bemusement and open the bag, pulling out one of the most gorgeous baby's dresses I have ever seen. Cascading white lace and satin ribbons flow down my arm as I hold it out for a full view.

"It's a Baptismal gown!" Abby gushes. "I saw it and thought of you guys almost immediately."

I can only stare at it in shock until Tony wraps an arm around me. "Babby," I murmur, unsure of how to proceed. "Babby, it is beautiful … I just …"

"She's speechless!" Tony jokes. "Thanks, Babby. It really means a lot."

Abby bounces several times before exploding with, "There's more in the bag!" When I do not move to look, she rips the bag from my grasp, drawing out two picture books and a set of booties. "These were just too cute. I had to buy them."

Gibbs has taken a position in the corner, staring at us with an eyebrow raised.

"Thank you, Babby. Really, it means so much to us." Tony takes all of the gifts from Abby and sets off down the hall to find a place for them.

Suddenly, I feel very lightheaded.

"Ana? Are you okay?" Gibbs murmurs, crossing to me. "Ana, talk to me."

I raise a hand to my forehead and manage to get out, "I do not feel so well," before seeing the ground grow closer to my face. I hear a thud and then the sound of my heartbeat, and then everything goes black.

The last thing I hear before I fall into unconsciousness is someone shouting, "Call a bus. Ana's sick."

A/N: ::gasps:: Oh no...Better read the next chapter to see what happened to Ziva...Not to ruin the story for you, but it wasn't Placental Detachment...And yes, I did do research about riding horses while pregnant. Don't judge me.