Ziva napped daily now. She enjoyed it, which was a good thing considering she didn't have much choice in the matter. She'd tried ignoring her body's fatigue once during her second trimester, and the night had ended with her crying into the pot of potatoes she was boiling for dinner. After that, Ziva fully relinquished herself to the naps. She often woke craving something, prompting Jethro to learn her rhythms, and grabbing several of her usual victims any time he went to the store. This time when she woke up bleary-eyed and fuzzy-toothed from her nap, Ziva grabbed one of the half-dozen pints of coffee ice cream from the freezer and a spoon, then returned directly to the couch to enjoy it.

It was while she mouthed a spoonful of of the decadent dessert, letting the cold on her tongue further wake her up, when she heard a knock on the door. She glanced at her ice cream, and decided against setting it down. She planted her spoon in the carton and levered herself up to her feet with her unencumbered hand. Ziva opened the door expecting a well-meaning neighbor, but froze when Tony met her gaze on the other side. A icy rush of adrenaline poured down her spine, banishing any trace of sleep from her body. Her free hand reflexively touched her belly. Their last conversation had ended in yelling and slammed doors—and a sharp kick to the kidney that had frightened her more than any physical threat ever had.

This time, Tony hadn't come ready to do battle. He looked shaken and uncertain, his eyes heavy with a troubled guilt that deepened when he saw her hand protecting her belly.

"Tony?"

"Hey," he greeted softly. "I'm not here to fight. I, ah, I was hoping we could talk. For real this time. No yelling. I promise."

Ziva nodded quickly, opening the door further to admit him. "Yes, of course. Please come in." He stepped across the threshold and then paused, waiting for her to shut the door and direct him further. At her nod, he took a stiff seat on the edge of the couch. She sat next to him, and took her spoon up again, churning the quickly softening dessert. "It's been over a month," she said quietly.

Tony nodded, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I know. I didn't know what else I was could say." Ziva nodded in understanding. She had nearly called him twice, each putting the phone down without dialing for much the same reason. "And I was still mad," Tony added.

"What changed?" Ziva tore her eyes from her ice cream and met his gaze. This time, she didn't find any accusations staring back at her. Just honesty and a gentle openness that reminded her of her early days at NCIS.

"I'm not sure." He winced at his own words. "Actually, I do. McGee, ah… McGee had some choice words. I'd forgotten he had that kind of bite." He looked up and his expression faltered when he saw Ziva's smile. "I bet that's satisfying to hear," he grumbled.

"Oh, Tony, no. I did not mean—" Ziva sighed, but couldn't banish her smile completely. "It's only that it still feels strange."

"What does?"

Warmth bloomed in the bottom of her stomach, spreading outwards until her whole body felt flushed with it. "Knowing I have a family. One who will stand up for me, even if they know I can take care of myself." She felt Tony's eyes on her, studying her, and her smile deepened. "McGee knows he is a part of that family. I believe he takes it very seriously. I'm lucky to have him."

Tony blinked quickly, and stared at his hands. "Am I?"

Ziva's brow furrowed. "Are you lucky to have Tim?"

"Hah—no. I mean, am I… Am I part of your family?" he asked carefully. Almost immediately, he scrubbed a hand through his in aggravation. "Am I even allowed to ask that?"

"Yes," Ziva replied. Then she hesitated, suddenly as unsure as he was. "I would like you to be. Truly. We left things in a difficult place when I remained in Israel, and coming back in my condition didn't help." She met his gaze once more. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Tony."

"I just can't believe I didn't see it. I'm a trained investigator, we practically live together, and I just—I didn't see it."

Ziva dropped her eyes to the carton in her hands. "You can't blame yourself, Tony. You didn't expect your teammates to lie to you."

Tony's hand reached out to touch her wrist. It stayed there, gentle as can be, until Ziva released her ice cream to turn her palm up, letting his hand slide in to clasp it. When she looked at him, Tony wasn't smiling. "My teammates shouldn't have felt that they needed to. That's my fault, Ziva. The truth is, I've come to expect a lot from you, and not all of it good. I did expect you to lie. Bodner was only one instance, and I might have been right, but I shouldn't have tried to catch you in the act. McGee's right. I didn't give you a lot of reason to trust me after Somalia. Or even before. I might have had good intentions, but that doesn't make it right."

"Tony…"

"Please let me finish. This—this isn't easy." He took a deep breath, and smiled when Ziva gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I want you to trust me, Ziva. With your happiness, and with the family you're building for yourself. I'd like to be a part of it, if you'll let me. It won't happen overnight. We have a lot to work through, but I'm ready to put in the effort, if you want to." He paused again, collecting himself. "We might not ever be partners again, but maybe… Maybe we can get back to being friends."

Silence fell over the house, but instead of delivering a crushing weight, Ziva felt almost giddy. Relief made her heart light, and she gripped Tony's hand as tightly as she dared. "I would like that," she confirmed readily. Ziva nodded. "I would like nothing more."

She and Tony talked for hours more, only parting when the sun began to fade. They left the troubles between them for another day, and simply enjoyed the act of talking itself. She told him of the girls she had worked with, how Monique had taken over and was doing well with them, and he spoke of sports and movies and all the things he used to regale her with. Eventually, his talk had turned to plans for his career, and that is what she thought of well into the night, when she and Gibbs lay comfortably in bed.

"I think Tony is going to leave the MCRT," she said softly, closing her eyes in content as Gibbs spooned up against her, his warm fingers spread against the baby's bump.

"He tell you that?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against her skin as he kissed her shoulder.

"Not in so many words. But some of what he said…" She shook her head. "I never wanted to come between you, Jethro. The team needs Tony, and he needs you even if he won't admit it."

She felt Gibbs lift his head to look at her. "You didn't think he'd stay my second in command forever, did you?"

"No, I suppose not. But… We may be ready to start healing, but he's still hurting. If he leaves now…" If Tony left now, it would not be so very different from what she herself had done a year ago. There was nothing wrong with that, or what she chose to do, except for the fact that she was very different from Tony, and the circumstances urging them to leave even more so. Ziva had left because she was sure of her friends, but not herself. She couldn't speak for Tony's reasons, but she knew her bones that he needed the connection of his teammates, and that if he left now he would not find what he needed.

"He needs to stand on his own feet, Ziver," Gibbs told her. "He's learned all that he can from me. It's time for him to have his own team, make his own rules. It's only natural." Ziva didn't respond to that; she couldn't deny that it was true, but in her heart she knew that it was still, somehow, wrong. Gibbs gave her a quick squeeze, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Hey."

"Jethro…"

"I've been thinking about retiring."

At that, Ziva's eyes flew open, her growing sleepiness vanishing in an instant. She rolled—a cumbersome process that took far longer than his words warranted—and looked him straight in the eye. "What did you say?"

Gibbs met her gaze solemnly. "I want to retire," he said plainly.

Ziva blinked, still stunned. "You sound very certain."

"That's because I am." His fingers brushed hers, and they twined together easily. "Ziva, I missed half of Kelly's childhood because of the Corps. I told myself it was okay because I'd have the rest of her life to make it up to her. I never got that chance. I'm not going to make that mistake again. Maybe I'll still consult every once in a while, but we don't need the money. I want to be here, with you and the baby."

"Jethro, I still haven't decided whether or not I'm going to work after the baby is born…"

"That's okay. You can make that decision whenever you're ready. But now your decision doesn't have to be limited by childcare options. If I'm here with the baby, you'll have more freedom to do what you need to. Your journey doesn't stop just because you're a mom. You can follow your happiness wherever it takes you. You… the baby… you two are my happiness, Ziver. I'm not going to waste a minute of it. Not again."

Tears burned at the back of Ziva's throat, but she was glad when her eyes remained dry. "If it is what you want, I won't stop you. So long as you are sure…"

"I'm sure." He tugged on their laced fingers, sliding closer to wrap his free arm around her, drawing her as close as her bump would allow. "100%."

"Okay," she whispered, breathing in the scent of him. It calmed her racing heart, and cleared the doubts from her mind. "Wait. Does that mean—"

"I want Dinozzo to take over, yes." He grinned against her hair, tickling her scalp. "Why do you think I kept him around so long?"