"You know, Nick, I'm really surprised that you don't hate stakeouts."

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Why would I hate stakeouts?"

"Isn't that only like one level up from being chained to a desk?" she asked, focusing on her binoculars as opposed to her partner. Gibbs had been pairing them up more and more following Hurricane Molly, and she almost couldn't complain.

"No, no!" he said, sounding offended and she set the binoculars down, looking over at him, raising an eyebrow. "C'mon Bish, I get to use my gun! Maybe! Sometimes. It's possible."

She rolled her eyes. "I wonder how McGee is doing."

"He misses more work than I do."

"Well, unless you have a pregnant wife stashed somewhere, keep dreaming about that time off," she said with a laugh. "And it's not like McGee is sleeping in… he's going with her to her appointments."

"Gibbs lets him get away with murder."

"Can you blame him?" she asked, softly.

"No," Torres admitted, and then snorted, shaking his head. "McGee is so paranoid."

"Oh trust me, I know. I'm one of his three emergency contacts for Delilah. So I know. Kinda cute actually."

"What does that mean?" Nick asked, pulling out a sandwich. "Do you mind? I skipped breakfast."

"Since when do you skip breakfast?"

"Since Gibbs sends us out at the break of dawn, c'mon Bishop."

She eyed his sandwich, hearing her own stomach growl. "Go ahead. And it just means that if McGee is out of DC on work, then I'm the next person she calls."

"Wow, he must really love her, to think it worth it to annoy all of his colleagues."

"He annoys you?" Ellie asked. "Thought you liked Tim."

"He's my bro, Bish. We gotta history. Doesn't mean I wanna look at his creepy alien baby."

"Do you just not like kids, Torres?"

"I love kids, Bishop. I just like them better when they're actually… y'know… here."

She giggled. "You poor thing. Having to actually be part of the team family."

"Wanna know a secret, Bishop?" he asked.

"What? You actually have six children hidden somewhere?"

"What? No, no, no, no. A real secret. And if you tell anyone, I'm disownin' ya."

"All right." She set the binoculars down again, turning to him. "What's this deep dark secret, Torres?"

"You cannot tell anyone!"

"I won't! Now spill!"

He winked at her. "You really wanna know?"

"Yes, I'm curious now! Tell me! Or I'll pepper spray you!"

"You don't have- yes, you have pepper spray, okay, that's awkward."

She held the pepper spray an inch away from his face. "Torres… You and I both know how much this hurts."

"I was just gonna say that the little alien baby is… actually kinda cute."

She stared at him for a second, and then started laughing. "I'm never gonna let you live this down," she warned him.

"I have so many regrets."

"Of course it's cute. It's Tim's."

"Forgive me if I haven't noticed how cute Tim is." He was silent for a second. "He and Delilah really have a thing goin' don't they?"

"They know each other really well," she said.

He shot her a look. "Well… yeah Bishop." He smirked. "They're having a kid together."

She frowned at him. "No, I don't… not like that. I just mean that they know each other's minds and they're happy. They're like… soulmates. I'd love to find that kind of love someday… wouldn't you?"

His face was open for a second, while he thought it over, the smirk having fallen away at her words. "Who wouldn't?" he asked softly. And in that brief moment, Ellie could have sworn it was the most honest he'd ever been with her. "I can't believe that they were doing things with a body under their bed."

She grimaced. "Ew. Really, Nick? I don't want to think about that."

He laughed. "You realize that they probably-,"

"No, Torres, I'm not realizing anything. That's like thinking about my brothers doing things…" She looked disgusted. And then she grinned at him. "Nice subject change by the way. You don't have to crack jokes to hide it, we all know you're actually a marshmallow."

"I'm not a marshmallow." He almost threw his sandwich at her. "You take it back!"

"If you throw that, I'll eat it. I skipped breakfast too, you know."

"You did?" he asked, feeling guilty, and feeling grumpy because she'd made him feel guilty. Sometimes he felt like Ellie tried to bother him on purpose. "Here, you can have half."

"Told you," she said, taking it from him, and taking a bite. "You're a marshmallow." And they shared a quick smile.

"Are ya done flirting yet?" Gibbs asked over the comm, and they exchanged a guilty look, before bursting out laughing. "Oh, and Torres? Bishop won't tell Tim, but I will!"

"Oh c'mon Gibbs, no!" he groaned.

"There goes your image," she said through another bite of her sandwich.

"You don't deserve that sandwich," he told her, bitterly, grabbing the binoculars from her.

She snorted, but mercifully didn't say anything else.

XNCISX

Delilah was stroking a hand over her belly, watching Tim, who was sitting beside her on the couch, half-asleep after a long day of work. She knew that he watched her when he thought she wasn't looking, but she would never confess that she did the same. She was greedy, drinking in the sight of him, and feeling the spark of knowledge that he was all hers, as long as they both lived. It was as though she couldn't get enough of looking at her husband, her Timothy. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, his shirt creased from a long day in the office, and his hair was standing on end like he'd been running a hand through his hair nervously all day. He'd smelled like gunpowder and coffee when he'd leaned down to kiss her when he'd walked in. He had her feet in his lap, and didn't seem to mind the dead weight against his thighs. As though he could sense that she was watching him, he looked over, blinking, only to see that she was watching him.

"Y'know, back in the olden days, they wouldn't even let the father in the delivery room."

"This isn't the olden days, Dee. Wild horses couldn't keep me away," he replied with a smile, before his brow furrowed. "I can't even imagine not being in the room with you. Why? Do you not want me there?""

She held up her book, one of the ones on pregnancy he picked out. "Just reading about the good old days of high mortality rates and very strict hospital rules," she responded with a smile. "And you know, I can see the logic in it." She could see he was frowning and hurried to correct herself. "I mean, I'll want you there. Without a doubt, Tim. I can't imagine you not being there. Since you got us into this mess." She winked at him, and he grinned, knowing she was kidding.

"What is the logic you see?" he asked, giving her a look.

"Well I know that you, for example, are going to be panicking."

"I'm not gonna- yeah. I am gonna panic, aren't I?"

She nodded, giggling, as she watched him, reaching for his hand. "I don't mind, y'know. Shows that you care. That and you scare easily."

"Of course I care. And don't worry, I'm going to be there. Come hell or high water, I'm going to be by your side the whole time, I promise. No matter how terrified I am."

She smiled at him, resting her book on top of her belly. He laughed at the sight, and she grinned too, biting her lip as she watched him yawn again. "Did you have a long day at work?"

"It was work," he replied, softly. "You know how it is."

She reached over, taking his head. "At least you got to miss part of it."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't remind me. It annoys Torres to no end, but I love coming to your appointments."

"Well he can come next time instead of you. Maybe we've finally found something to shake him up."

"I think that would be filed under too much information for poor Torres. However fond he is of you."

"He's secretly a marshmallow," she said with a smile, and Tim shifted in his spot on the couch, yawning. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Is everything okay?" he asked her, suddenly both wide awake and worried.

She rolled her eyes. "You worry too much."

"Excuse you, sweetheart, I worry just the right amount for a man with a very pregnant wife."

"Yeah, very pregnant is right. No hiding it, is there?" she asked, moving her book aside to place her hands on top of her bump. "You would be amazed at all the people who are curious. I mean, yeah, they stared before, because of the chair, but it's nothing compared to this."

He chuckled. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Can you paint my toenails for me?" she asked, smiling at him.

"You want me to paint your toenails?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Please." She patted her leg. "I know they're just for decoration at this point, but it doesn't mean they have to be ugly."

He laughed. "Just for decoration?"

She shrugged. "If I can't laugh about it… what can I do?" And it was true; she'd shed many tears about her paralysis and added complications and a changed life, but she had no more tears to shed. It hadn't stopped her from creating a child, or getting married, and that was enough.

He smiled. "I will gladly paint your toenails for you. Do you have a color in mind?"

"I was thinking gold. Nail polish stays on forever and I'm going to be the most stylish lady in the hospital."

He laughed. "You were going to be anyway."

"Yeah," she smiled. "I know. It helps that I make hospital gowns look good."

He chuckled again, smiling at her with heartfelt adoration. "Do you have gold nail polish?" he asked. "Or do I need to buy some to keep my wife in style?"

"There should be some in my makeup bag," she responded, trying to ignore the deep visceral response she still had to being called his wife. "How about I paint your fingernails for you once you're done?"

"I feel the team might frown upon that," he said with a smile. "Not that that would stop me."

"You must love me to even agree," she told him.

"You know it." He nodded, moving her feet off his lap, and though he was getting up for her, she regretted the loss of contact. He stood up, and turned back to her. "Want anything to eat?"

She gestured to the bump. "When do I not want something to eat?"

He laughed. "Good point."

"If you can get me a Jell-O cup from the kitchen and put a slice of cheese on top of it, I will love you forever."

"You won't love me forever anyway? I'm hurt."

"You know I will."

He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Gold nail polish and Jell-O with cheese. Anything else, sweetheart?"

"No." She looked up at him, and smiled. "You spoil me, you know that?"

"You don't seem to mind. It's also kinda my job to spoil you."

"And how could I mind?" she asked, squeezing his hand as he walked past. He returned a few minutes later, with her requested food, and the bottle of nail polish.

"You have some of the strangest cravings," he commented.

"You weren't complaining the other night when I was craving you," she teased in return.

They shared a quick smile, as he started painting her toenails. He listened to her talk about her day, and her afternoon with Breena, and Victoria, and eventually started talking about the hurricane.

"Yeah, the power went out. It was not fun. Especially when Breena called twice to check in. And you called how many times…?" she asked, watching him bent over his work. She smiled to herself.

"Mmm," was his reply, concentrating as he was.

She smirked at him. "I had to burn all of your copies of Deep Six just to keep warm."

"Okay." She started laughing, and he looked up, startled. "What?"

"You haven't heard a word I said, have you?"

"Burning my copies of Deep Six. I heard."

"And that doesn't bother you?" she teased.

He gave her a look that melted her heart. "Honey, I think you're more important. They're just books, and you're my wife."

She reached out a hand, and put it on top of his. "You always know the right thing to say."

"No I don't," he said with a laugh.

"No you don't," she agreed. "But it's usually from the heart, and that's all that matters."

He looked over to where the fire was blazing, and then went back to his painting. "It's easy to speak from the heart with you, Dee."

Looking at him, her Timothy, who painted her nails and brought her any food she was craving, reminded her once again of Peanut, and she rested her hands on her bump, wondering what they were having again. "Have you thought any more about names?" she asked softly.

He nodded, not looking up. "I've got a list going… You?"

"Oh, definitely, and the list keeps growing. It's not like I have terrorists to catch or anything," she said with a giggle. "And once I'm done with work- yes, soon enough, Tim," she responded to his worried look. "Once I'm done work, I'll have nothing to do but sit around and watch myself get fat."

He laughed. "You're pregnant, Dee. Not fat."

"So, names."

"If it's a girl… I think I want one of her names to be Caitlin."

"For your old partner?" Delilah asked, softly.

"Yeah, Kate. Knew me as a probie. She would've adored you."

"I'm sure I would've liked her too, Tim."

"She was like an older sister to me…" he said thoughtfully. "What about you?"

"Samson?" she teased.

He shot an annoyed look her way, but she could see he didn't really mean it. "Samson? Really?"

"Or Rafi? Since you have him to thank for me coming back to DC."

He frowned. "I don't have him to thank for anything." And then he smirked at her. "Youthink we're having a boy?"

"I thought we were refusing to speculate."

"You must have some idea."

"We were talking about names," she said patiently, the seriousness returning to the conversation. "What about John? For a boy?"

"John?" he asked.

"For your father…" She frowned. "Should I have not suggested it?" She knew all about his complicated history with his father, and knew he regretted how their relationship had been.

"No, you should've. It's just these are all people who are important to me."

"I did suggest Rafi?"

"He was important to you?" Tim asked, frowning.

"Never mind Rafi. You don't think my late father-in-law is important? He gave me you… sort of."

He laughed. "I guess he did. That's a point in his favor."

"I know it wasn't easy, but consider it," she offered.

"What about Alexander? For your dad?"

"That's a good idea. I know that you've gone through like five baby name books by now, but… you know as well as I do… this baby's name should mean something, Tim."

He nodded. "I know. But there's something else I know: whatever Peanut here is called… it doesn't matter. I mean, it does matter, because names are important… but it's our baby. And that's enough."

"So how do you feel about Farragut?" she asked, before they both started laughing.

"Definitely not Farragut," he said.

"I just feel like… when I see Peanut for the first time," she said, looking into the fire. "I'll know. We'll know."

"You're right, as usual. When we meet Peanut for the first time… and hold them… we'll know."

They locked eyes, and he set down his nail polish, reaching for her hands. "And it'll be perfect," she said softly.

"It already is." He smiled at her. "I can't wait."

To hold their child in their arms.