She climbs onto the elevator, with a baby in her arms, a diaper bag slung over her shoulder, no make-up on her face, wearing sweats, with a gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach. The elevator doors close in front of her. She rides the elevator to the third floor. She steps off, and moves towards the nurses station. Without a word, the nurse points to a room, in the corner of the ICU. A room full of people. Her heart sinks when she spots the person lying in the hospital bed. She takes a deep breath, and walks towards his room.

She pushes the door open, and looks around the room. Three faces stare back at her. The fourth doesn't look at her. Abby looks at them, and they leave the room. Ziva sinks into a chair next to the bed. She feels the question building up in her throat, like a hairball. Abby slides into the chair next to him.

"You're probably wondering what happened."

Ziva simply nods.

"Gibbs, has been sick, for a while. He has a brain tumor. He suffered from an aneurysm," she simply states the facts, without her opinions.

"Oh," is all she can manage to get out.

"Ziva, talk to me," Abby begs.

"What would you like me to say?"

"Anything."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"He didn't want you to know."

"Why not? He didn't think that I deserved to know? Did you know?"

"Yes. He never would have known, if not for me. I always have to put my nose where it doesn't belong."

"Abby, what are you talking about?"

"I insisted that he get an MRI."

"Why?"

"I didn't think that he would..." she trails off, "It doesn't matter, now."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"He didn't want you to know. He didn't want you to be stressed out about it. He thought that it was best, not to tell me."

"Why? So I could be blindsided? How am I supposed to react to his? I have a new baby, and this... right now, this is more than I can handle."

"I know."

"I have a new baby. His baby. Now he's..." her eyes start to tear up.

"Why don't I take Jonah? You can have some time alone, with Gibbs."

"No. It's ok."

"You want me to stay?"

"No. You can go."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine."

"Ok," Abby nods, retreating from the room.

Ziva looks at the shell of a man, lying in the hospital bed. She scoots her chair closer. She looks at his face, and then her eyes drift to the face of the baby, sleeping in her arms. Jonah's eyes flutter open, for a second. Blue eyes. She hopes that they stay that way. Then she can have a piece of him. Maybe it is selfish, but it is all she had. She can never let go. She knows that.

She also knows, that for her son's sake that she would have to try and move on. She would have to keep living, for their son. It was still such an unusual concept. A son. Her son. Her son, with Gibbs. Their son.

She looks at Gibbs. His face is blank. She had seen that face before. She had seen the face of dying men, many times. She knew the truth. He was dying. There was no saving him. No matter how much she prayed. No matter how much faith she borrowed. There was no changing what was. He was dying. She was going to lose him. A pillar of strength in her life. She was going to lose him.

She blinks away tears. She looks away. She wipes her eyes, and looks at her son. A son who was going to grow up, without his father. It wasn't fair. Just as life, often, isn't fair. She looks at Gibbs. She slides her hand, into his. She squeezes it. She takes a deep breath, and begins to speak.

"I know that you're ready to go. I understand that. I know that you know we aren't ready to let you go. I'm not ready to let you go. Jonah needs you. It isn't fair for him, for you to go this way. It isn't fair for him, to never know you. Maybe you don't want to fight anymore. I am sure that you are tired, and you are ready to give up. But it's not ok. You have a son. A son who needs you. He needs you, and you can't just walk out on him. You have to fight, for him. Do this, for him," she pleads.

She carefully unwraps the baby, and places him on Gibbs' chest. She places the blanket over the sleeping baby. She places Gibbs' hand on against his back.

She barely registers the knock on the door. Finally after a few seconds, she looks up. She finds a doctor, standing in the doorway. A young doctor. She waits for him to speak.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

She nods.

"I'm just coming in to check on him."

"Ok," Ziva nods.

"He has a history of comas?"

"Yes. Is there anything that you can do?"

"Surgery is risky."

"Risky? He's already dying. How risky could it be?"

"If that is something you think should be considered, then you should discuss it with his power of attorney."

"I didn't know that he had one."

"What's your name?"

"Ziva David."

"You aren't aware?"

"Aware of what?"

"You're his power of attorney. It's up to you, to make any decision that you see fit. I assume you're his wife?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Girlfriend."

"No."

"Daughter?"

"No. He is my boss."

"Obviously he trusts you, a great deal."

"What is your opinion?"

"I am not going to sell you false hope. The surgery probably won't work. It will probably kill him. He will most likely die on the operating table."

"Is that supposed to dissuade me? He is going to die, here."

"He could regain consciousness."

"Could. Not for any length of time."

"Why do you want him to have the surgery?"

"Because he has a son."

"Is he on his way? I haven't spoken to him."

She points, "That is his son."

"He has a newborn son?"

"Yes," she nods.

"I'm curious as to why he wouldn't want his child's mother to be the power of attorney."

"I am."

"You are?"

"Yes."

"That's what he was talking about. He said that his poor judgment brought him to the hospital for the MRI. He never elaborated."

"He is a man of few words."

"Do you want to do the surgery?"

"What are the other options?"

"We do nothing, and eventually he dies."

"Or you do something, and there is a miniscule chance, that he doesn't?"

"Precisely. It is a very, small chance. The statistics are not on our side here."

"Just do it."