He pulls the door open before she even musters up enough courage to knock. She stares at a grey haired man with bright blue eyes.
"It's cold you should come in," he tells her.
She enters the house, and he closes the door behind her.
"I'm surprised that you're here, after the other day."
"I hope that I haven't interrupted anything," she responds.
"What brings you here?"
"I was just in the neighborhood."
"I doubt that," he argues.
"I shouldn't have come."
"Why were you here the other day?"
"It's complicated."
"Obviously there was something on your mind. Would you like to talk about it?"
She points to the couch in the other room. He nods, and they head into the living room. She folds her arms across her chest, and purses her lips. She paces in front of the TV.
"You have something to say?" He questions.
"You should have a seat," she points to the couch.
He nods, and complies with her suggestion. He settles into a seat on the couch, "I'm sitting. Are you going to tell me why you're here?"
"I am. I am just going to come out and say it."
"Say what? What's going on? Is someone following you? Are you in danger? Why are you acting so out of character?"
"I'm pregnant," the words fall from her lips before she has the ability to stop them.
His eyes widen, and he falls silent. She takes a step towards him.
"Did you hear me?" She questions.
He furrows his brow, "Congratulations."
"That's it?"
"Why are you telling me?"
"I thought that you should know."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"Why would you tell me? I am very happy for you, but…"
She cuts him off, "It's yours."
He swallows hard. He studies her body language, and facial expression. He scratches his head, "Excuse me?"
"You are the other responsible party in the situation."
"Am I being punked? Did DiNozzo put you up to this?"
She shakes her head, "Why would you think that?"
"I thought that you couldn't have children. Didn't you have to have a gestational carrier?"
"Yes."
"You underwent years of fertility treatments."
"Yes," she confirms.
"So this is some sort of joke, right?"
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I'm pregnant," she repeats.
"Are you sure?"
"I was just as mystified as you are."
"I doubt that."
"This shouldn't have happened. I don't know how it happened. The chances of me conceiving are something close to zero."
"Maybe there has been some sort of mistake," he suggests.
She pulls a picture out of her pocket, and hands it to him. He stares at the black and white image.
"I tried to convince them that there was some sort of mistake. They assured me that there wasn't. I couldn't believe it, to be honest I am still not sure that I believe it."
He holds up the image, "This is real?"
She nods, "Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Sooner? I just found out two days ago. This picture is from yesterday."
"I don't know what to say."
She feels a hand on her arm, and she returns to reality from her daydream. She looks up from the magazine on her lap. She finds Harriet staring at her intently.
"Are you ready?" She questions.
"Yes," she nods, placing the magazine on the coffee table in front of her.
She vacates her seat, and meets the nurse at the desk. Harriet remains seated.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Mac simply shakes her head. The nurse ushers her out of the waiting room down a long hallway. Harriet remains in the waiting room. Eventually Mac returns to the waiting room. Harriet tosses the magazine that she's reading onto the pile. She grabs her purse, and digs out the car keys.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes," she nods with a solemn look on her face.
The walk to the parking lot is silent. Sarah climbs into the passenger's seat. Harriet positions herself in the driver's seat. They're halfway to their destination before either of them says anything. Harriet pulls up to the stop light. She looks over at her former colleague. Mac stares out the passenger's side window. She is uncharacteristically quiet. She seems completely off today. She wears a Navy hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Harriet can't help but ask the obvious.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," she answers flatly, refusing to make eye contact.
"To be honest I didn't know that you owned a pair of sweatpants."
"I found them in one of the boxes when I was unpacking."
The light turns green, and the conversation evaporates. Ten minutes later Harriet pulls into Mac's driveway. The passenger's side door is open before the car is even in park.
"Do you want me to stay with you for a while?"
"No," she slides out of the car. She slams the car door, and heads up the driveway to the front door of the house. Harriet watches her as she disappears into the house. She removes her phone from the console. She sends her a text message.
Sarah takes a seat on the couch. She ignores her vibrating phone. She sits on the couch in silence. She leans forward, pressing her elbows into her legs. She buries her head in her hands. The tears start to freefall. She doesn't try to stop them. She doesn't attempt to catch them. She ignores her desire to maintain composure. She allows herself to be enveloped by a whirlwind of emotion caused by the consequences of the action she's just taken.