December 9th, 2011

He walks into the living room, and finds her on the couch. He bends down, and pulls the blanket over her.

"Don't!" she hisses.

"Sorry. I didn't know that you were awake."

"I am."

"It's two o'clock in the morning."

"I know."

"Why are you out here? You should be in bed, asleep," he points out.

"I know."

"So, then why are you out here? On the couch, wide awake?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Was I snoring, again?"

"Always, but that isn't what is keeping me awake."

"Do I have to guess, or are you just going to tell me?"

"I'm having contractions," she reveals.

"You've been having contractions on, and off, for weeks."

"This is it," she insists.

"Then why didn't you wake me?"

"You were sound asleep."

"So?"

"You get so cranky."

"Do you have your bag?"

"It's by the door."

"Did we ever get all of the boxes unpacked?" He wonders.

"Some of your boxes may have gotten lost."

"Meaning, you dropped them in the dumpster?"

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"At least the baby's room is done."

"Done? We still have to finish the paint."

"I finished it yesterday, while you were out."

"Oh."

"Can we go now?"

"I don't want to," she admits.

"Why not?"

"Because when we come back, he's going to be here."

"You don't want him here?"

"I don't know if I'm ready, for him to come out."

"You don't have any choice," he reminds her.

"I know."

Gibbs meets them at the hospital. Ziva is admitted. Gibbs situates himself in the waiting room.

0538- After ten minutes of pushing the doctor puts a wailing baby boy, onto Ziva's chest. She looks at him, in silence.

"Look at all his hair," Tony comments.

"Hi, handsome," she says to the baby. He instantly calms down, recognizing her voice.

2030- Gibbs sits in the corner of the nursery, in a rocking chair. He holds the sleepy baby in his arms. Tony comes in, and joins him.

"Is she ready for him?" Gibbs questions.

"Yeah."

"Still no name?"

"No name."

"He looks like her," Gibbs comments.

"He's going to have your eyes."

"It's too early to tell that."

"Maybe, but, he's going to be handsome, that's for sure."

"Tony?" Gibbs offers the baby, to Tony. Tony carefully situates the newborn in his arms. He moves over to the basinet, and places the baby inside.

"Yeah?" he answers.

"Promise me that you're going to take good care of him."

"That's not my..."

Gibbs cuts him off, "Just promise me."

"Ok."

"You'll treat him like your own? And, you'll teach him how to sail?"

"Why are you asking me this? He is your son. I know that I am with her, but... he is your son. I'm not trying to take him away from you. I never would."

"I just need you to promise me, that you'll take good care of him."

"Of course I will. Are you going somewhere?"

Gibbs doesn't answer. He just stares at the innocent, sleeping baby, in the basinet.

"Boss?"

"You can't tell her," he insists.

"Tell her what?"

"I don't want her to know," Gibbs adds.

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't see his first steps. I won't get to take him to his first day of preschool. I won't teach him how to catch a ball. I'll never see him graduate high school, or get married, and start a family of his own. You are going to have all of that. You will have to stand in, for me."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't you be there?"

"Because I can't be. The simple fact, is, I won't be."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"I'll be gone."

"Where?"

"I'll be dead."

"Dead? You're planning on dying, in the near future?"

"I wasn't planning on it, but I don't get any say."

"You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," Tony argues.

"Abby asked me a favor."

"And it's Abby, so you had to agree?"

"Right," Jethro agrees.

"And?"

"She asked me to have an MRI. She was sure that the only way my judgment would be clouded enough to sleep with Ziva, was if there was something wrong."

"But she was wrong?"

"Is she, ever?"

"Rarely."

"I had an MRI."

"And?"

"I had a softball sized tumor, in my brain," Gibbs reveals, flatly.

"But, you're ok?"

"No. It was malignant. It's nearly the size of a cantaloupe, now."

"You can't be serious," Tony furrows his brow, in confusion.

"I am."

"Can't it be fixed?"

"It's too late. It's inoperable."

"Chemo?"

"It's growing too fast."

"But..."

"No, no, buts. Today is a happy day. It's his birthday. Go, take him, to her. Be happy. With her, with him, with your family. Don't let me ruin this for you."

"How long do you have?"

"No one knows," he replies. He lifts the baby out of the basinet, and kisses his forehead. He returns him to the basinet, and leave the nursery.