"You are a complicated individual," he remarks.
"It wasn't because I was lonely, if that is what you are asking."
"I didn't ask you anything," he points out.
"It was because I wanted it," she explains further.
"So why have you pushed me away every chance that you've gotten?"
She grins, "Because that is my pattern."
"Maybe you should consider breaking it," he suggests.
"Oh?"
"Has it worked for you in the past?"
"No. Has your pattern worked for you in the past?"
"No. I have three ex-wives to prove it, and countless failed relationships."
"Gibbs why are you really here?" She asks as she leads him into the kitchen.
He takes a seat across the table from her in the kitchen. He waits until she's situated in her seat before he continues.
"You are a marine."
"Retired," she reminds him.
"For essentially all of your adult life you have been a marine."
"And an alcoholic," she adds.
"Marine's by nature are not particularly spontaneous."
"Speak for yourself."
"We like plans, but we can adapt to whatever chaos is thrown at us."
"What are you getting at?"
"I find it incredibly difficult to believe that you would attempt to create another child after separating from your husband. It seems improbable that you would continue after his death."
"I told you that I didn't use his sperm."
"It's not his child?"
"No."
"You expect me to believe that you planned this?"
She takes a deep breath, and shakes her head, "No."
"I don't believe it."
"Obviously."
"You said that you couldn't conceive."
"I did say that."
"You couldn't carry a child, which is why you used a gestational carrier for Izzy."
"Right."
"What changed?"
She breaks eye contact, "I wish I knew."
"And why don't you seem relieved?" He probes.
She blinks, chiding herself for the urge to cry, "Because, maybe, I'm not."
"You should be," he points out.
"Yeah."
"I suspect that you spent a great deal of money trying to conceive a second child."
"Why does it matter? Why do you care about any of this?"
"I wish that I didn't," he admits, "I wish that none of it mattered to me."
"Why are you here? Why do you keep showing up?"
He falls silent.
"What is it that you see in me? I am an incredibly flawed individual. I am an alcoholic. I have been widowed twice. I am a single parent. I'm pregnant, and…"
"I see you," he answers simply.
She furrows her brow, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," he shrugs.
"What is it that you want me to say?"
"The truth," he replies.
"About what?"
"Why did you tell me about the baby?"
"You insisted that I should have told you," she responds.
"You volunteered more information than I asked, why?"
She shrugs, "I don't know."
He nods, and scoots his chair away from the table. He exits the room, and heads to the door.
"When you're ready," he murmurs as he heads for the exit. She hears the door close, but she doesn't move from her seat.
He stands in his basement sanding a boat. He hears footsteps descending the stairs. He looks up, and finds Tony staring at him. He furrows his brow, and tosses his sandpaper onto the work bench.
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine."
"You haven't been yourself. You've been rattled, distracted even."
"It's nothing," Gibbs insists.
Tony leans against the workbench, "It's about her, isn't it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He nods, "The General." Tony notes how Gibbs eyes light up when she's mentioned.
"What about her?"
"You're in love with her."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Why else would you be so torn up?"
"I am not torn up," he growls.
"She too complicated because she's a widow?"
"No."
"Good, because you're a widower," he reminds him.
"Tony, I'm fine."
"So why won't you talk about her?"
"She was a murder suspect."
"And then the subject of a terrorist plot," he points out.
"What is your point?"
"I saw the look on your face when you thought that she was dead. You were devastated."
"She's a good marine."
"She is the one."
"The one, what?"
"The other half that you've been looking for."
"What makes you think that?"
"She's an equal."
"I'm really not sure why you're here."
"I read your report," Tony adds.
"We write reports every day," Gibbs responds.
"She's pregnant," Tony continues.
"And?"
"Did you sleep with her?"
"That's none of your damn business!"
"I'll take that as a yes. How far along is she?"
"DiNozzo! I don't know."
"Who is the father?"
"This is not twenty questions," the vein in his forehead pulsates as his cheeks turn red.
"Do you know who the father is? Did she tell you?"
"DiNozzo, drop it," he insists.
Tony takes a deep breath. He scrutinizes his boss's facial expression. He can see the look of torment, and confusion on his face. He sees the non-verbal clues. He picks up on Gibbs' body language. He decides to shift the conversation ever so slightly.
"Did you ever consider having another child?"
Gibbs doesn't make eye contact. He stares at the concrete floor. He notices a nail lying on the floor. He allows himself to fixate on the shiny metallic object between the two of him. He considers reaching down, and picking it up before one of the steps on it. DiNozzo's words echo in his head.
"No," he finally answers.