Tony sits next to her. He quietly sits in the chair, staring at the monitor, not her stomach. He had promised himself that he would behave. That he would be professional, and not make her uncomfortable. He is so caught up in his own thoughts he nearly misses the conversation the doctor is having with her. He catches the tail end of it.
"You're having a boy," the doctor informs her.
Tony refocuses his eyes on the screen. He furrows his brow in confusion. He stares at what he guesses is a head, not anywhere remotely near the area that revealed gender. He looks at the doctor, and then to Ziva. She grins.
"I had to see if you were paying attention."
"Zi, that's mean. Don't, you think?"
She shakes her head, "No, not really."
"Are you actually going to find out, or are you going to continue to torture me?"
"Trouble in paradise?" the doctor questions.
They look at each other, and then at him. Ziva shakes her head. "No."
"Isn't he the father?"
She shakes her head, "No he's not the father."
"He's not the father? Your boyfriend?"
"No," she replies, "He's just my partner."
"Just your partner? Ziva, that hurts."
"Don't complain. You're here, aren't you?"
"Fair enough," he nods.
"So, do you want to find the gender out, or not?" the doctor inquires.
"I cannot deal with incessant poutiness, from him. Also, I am not patient enough to wait until the baby is born."
"Ok," the doctor nods.
He continues the exam. Tony's eyes remain fixated on the screen. His heart drops into his stomach, in disappointment. He crosses his arms, and looks at Ziva. She looks back at him.
"What?" she asks.
"It figures that your kid would be like you, stubborn as the day is long."
"I am not stubborn."
"That isn't the point. The point is, that his legs are crossed," he turns to the doctor, "Is there anything you can do?"
"Not really."
Tony looks over at Ziva, and scoots his chair closer. He talks to her exposed stomach. "Listen buddy, I know that you're trying to prove a point. It's your business. Do you think you could just give us a peek? If you don't your mom is probably going to end up shooting me, for pestering her."
He scoots back, and watches the screen. The doctor is about to turn the screen off, when the baby uncrosses it's legs. By this point Ziva has stopped watching. Tony looks for her reaction. She is paying no attention. He elbows her.
"What," she shoots him a dirty look.
He slips into the room, behind her. She begins talking, without turning around.
"I am almost done," she announces.
"That's not why I'm here," he admits.
She turns around slowly, noting his subtly different tone of voice.
"Why are you here?"
"I brought you something," he holds up a large, brown envelope.
"What is it?"
"Open it, and see."
She opens the envelope and looks inside. She holds it up to the light. She places it on the metal table in front of her, and looks at him.
"Where is this from?"
"I thought that you would want to have it."
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"To prove that I did what you asked."
"You are telling me that this is yours?"
"Yes," he nods.
"But..."
"I know."
"This is you, breaking it to me, gently?"
"Yes," he nods.
"I don't want to keep this," she insists.
"Abby, you'll want this, later."
"Later, no, I won't need it."
"Yes you will."
"Take it," she begs.
"No, it's yours."
"I don't want it to be mine. Gibbs, I..." she trails off.
"It's ok, Abby."
She shakes her head, "No, it's not."
He takes a step closer, and pulls her into a hug. She holds on tightly, afraid to let go.
"What are you going to do?" she inquires.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? You have to..."
He interrupts her, "There is nothing that can be done."
"There has to be something."
"No, nothing worth while."
"This is a mess. You never, should have..."
He cuts her off, "I know."
"I would have rather been blindsided."
"I know."
"Now I have time, to sit and think about it."
"Time to get used to it."
"No, I'll never get used to the idea. No matter how much time you give me."
"I don't think that it's up to me."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not."
"Have you..."
He answers the question, knowing what she is asking, "No, not yet."
"Are you going to?"
"No. Abby. I'm not."
"You have to. She needs to know."
"No, it's better that she doesn't."
"But..."
"No, buts."