Tobias enters the house through the front door. He doesn't search the house wondering where his friend may be. He heads through the kitchen towards the laundry room. He heads down the stairs past the laundry room, into the basement. He finds Gibbs sitting on a stool in front of his work bench. He stops next to him, leaning against the work bench. He folds his arms across his chest, and shrugs his shoulders.

"What the hell? I thought you were dying."

"No. I'm not."

He studies Jethro's facial expression, and the lack of color in his face. The lines in his forehead are more apparent than usual. He contemplates the best method of tackling the interrogation. He quickly decides to use what he knows works.

"You look like hell."

"You too," Gibbs points out.

"I spent sixteen hours on a cargo plane today, what's your excuse?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"What's eating at you Jethro? I haven't seen you this conflicted since I asked you to come to my wedding."

"How's Emily?" He tries to change the subject.

"You call me, and tell me that you're not okay, and then hang up on me. I came over here to make sure that you weren't dead. What the hell is going on?"

"Do you know General MacKenzie?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"Her retirement party was tonight."

"She's had a rough year with her husband dying, and you trying to put her away for his murder."

"Yeah."

"How was the party?"

"The terrorists taxed with crossing her name off their hit list showed up."

"She's dead?"

He shakes his head, "No, but they certainly intended to kill her. One shot her in the vest."

"If she's okay why are you so torn up?"

"She's pregnant."

"Is or was?"

"Is. The bullet hit the vest. She's just a little bruised, and possibly a little concussed from hitting the floor."

"I don't understand."

"She could have been killed."

"She wasn't. Did you get your guys?"

"Yeah."

"So it was a win?"

"I don't know if I would call it that."

"Is there something that I'm missing?"

"I missed it too," he admits.

"Missed what?"

"I didn't know that she was pregnant."

"Why does it matter? She's fine."

"She just told me today."

"And?"

"She also informed me about the paternity of her unborn child."

"Why do I care?"

He begins to choke up.

Tobias elbows him, "Jethro?"

"It's me."

Tobias furrows his brow, "What's you?"

"It's mine."

Tobias grins, "It's yours? The baby? She's having your baby?"

"Yes."

Tobias begins laughing hysterically, "You got me. Gibbs, that was a good one. I knew that you would get me back eventually for the last one I pulled over on you. For a second you almost had me believing you. You really pulled that one off."

Gibbs facial expression doesn't change.

"You were kidding, right?"

"No," he says flatly.

"No? I didn't know that the two of you were an item."

"We're not."

"But it's possible that you got her pregnant?"

"Yep."

"You're old."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"You're being serious right now?"

"Yes," he grits his teeth.

The following morning she lies on the couch watching TV, desperately wanting to go to sleep. Her insomnia taunts her. Her head is killing her, but she refuses to even take Tylenol. Izzy is snuggled against her chest, sound asleep.

"Are the two of you okay?" Harriet questions.

"We'll be fine."

"I'll be back after I drop the kids off at school. If you need anything…"

"Harriet we'll be fine."

"Okay," she agrees, heading for the door.

She vacates her seat on the couch, and climbs the stairs with Izzy in her arms. She heads into Izzy's room, and tucks her underneath her bedclothes. She kisses her on the cheek, and retires to her own bed. She glances at the clock, and rolls onto her side. She closes her eyes, and tries to fall asleep. She prays that sleep will finally find her. A million thoughts swirl around in her head as she tries to reach a state of unconsciousness.

He sits behind his desk. He listens half-heartedly as Tim drones on about something technical that he has no hopes of understanding. He sighs, and breaks eye contact, glancing down at his watch. He taps his foot impatiently, and finds his thoughts wondering. He stares at the face of his watch.

"Gibbs?"

He looks up at the former probie, forcing a grin, "Yeah, McGee?"

"Boss, are you okay?"

"Fine, McGee," he insists, hoping that he will change the subject.

"It's just that you've seemed very distracted all day. We finally pieced together all the puzzle pieces to put this case to bed that we've been working on for months, and…"

"I'm just tired," he fibs.

McGee stares at his boss, somehow he sees right through his façade. "Is this about what happened yesterday?"

"It was just another day."

"With General MacKenzie," McGee continues.

"McGee…" he tries to stop him.

McGee cuts him off, "I saw your reaction when she got shot."

"I didn't know she was wearing a vest," he admits.

"It was like your heart was breaking," McGee refuses to relent.

"McGee, just let it go."

"You have feelings for her," he confronts Gibbs.

"That's none of your damn business!" His cheeks turn red as his voice raises.

"But it's hers, maybe you should tell her."

"McGee it's not that simple," he argues.

"Yeah, well maybe it should be."

"Why are you pushing this?"

"She makes your eyes light up. No one else can do that. If she's…"

Without another word Gibbs pushes his chair out from underneath the desk. He rises from the seat, and stomps past McGee, completely uninterested in finishing their conversation.