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“David,” Gibbs says, and she looks over to his desk with a raised eyebrow, curious. She’s been in the middle of running down searches for their missing girl and her friends for a while now, and though she hasn’t been making much progress– it feels like none of them have on this case– it’s important work that Gibbs rarely interrupts any of them during. Her boss’ tone, though, didn’t seem conversational and soft, he didn’t call her Ziver. This is work-related.
“Yes, Gibbs?”
“The birthing class Matthews’ friends are gonna be in tomorrow?”
The idea is familiar to her, but the specifics are a little hazy due to the sheer weight of information she’s been wading through all evening. She looks back to her computer, brings up the one of a dozen open tabs with that information. It’s a Facebook event both girls have said they’re attending.
“In the community center at 2pm, yes.”
“You’re gonna be there.”
She blinks. “What?”
“We’re getting nowhere, I’m sending you in.” he says, with a nod like that clears everything up, but once more she finds herself utterly confused. She’s good undercover, but not that good.
“Gibbs, I cannot run a Lamaze class, I would not know what to–”
“Head down to ops tomorrow morning. You’re not gonna be leading it, you’re gonna be attending it.”
She looks over to McGee, Tony, who look just as confused. Gibbs has evidently thought this through, planned before he spoke, but it’s the first any of them have heard of this route in for this investigation. All week it’s been slow leg work, interviews and chats and more interviews, with Gibbs and McGee having been out in the field more often than they’ve been by their desks, Tony and Ziva stuck inside making call after call after call. It doesn’t help that first they just had a murder on their hands, and now they’re dealing with a potential kidnapping of a missing, pregnant, eighteen year old.
Petty Officer Nate Adams was found on his apartment steps at sunrise at the start of the week, a corkscrew through his heart and absolutely no evidence as to who committed the crime. When they’d started looking into Adams’ family, the team had found an old mob connection they figured was related to his death. It had led them nowhere but in circles for days, though, until they finally spoke to the Petty Officer’s former college roommate. According to Brian Sanders, Adams was about to be a dad, only, the mother of his future child was nowhere to be found. Today, Gibbs and McGee had visited Shelby Matthews’ parents and found she’d been missing for four days, and while the parents had hoped she was with Petty Officer Adams and so hadn’t called in the cops yet, they’d been distressed to learn that Adams is in fact very dead. With Shelby’s father a retired Marine, and the killer the most likely culprit of Shelby’s kidnapping, NCIS had had to pick up a missing person’s case, too. Or, really, two missing persons cases.
Shelby’s parents didn’t know Adams well at all, and according to Gibbs’ read on them they weren’t very pleased at their only child getting pregnant to a virtual stranger before she’d started college. It was only when talking to them, though, that Gibbs and McGee had discovered Shelby wasn’t the only one of her friends to be pregnant. Another four of her high school friends, all just graduated, had become pregnant in the last seven months. The agents had suspected what the parents had: a pact. And nobody knows who the fathers are. With Shelby’s parents desperate to find her, they’d given NCIS the names of all the friends, and so far the only headway they’ve made has been finding two of the girls enrolled in a Lamaze class scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.
They’d been trying to find a way to contact them without spooking them or the killer, but apparently, Gibbs has decided undercover is the way.
Ziva sits up straight, eyes her boss.
“You want me to pretend to be pregnant.” she clarifies, and Gibbs shrugs like it’s an easy thing to do. Ziva tries not to show her bafflement before him, though she’s not sure if she’s effective. “I… Will the undercover department be able to make it look convincing?”
“If not they’ll answer to me,” Gibbs says cryptically, before shrugging and standing up, tossing his empty coffee cup into the trash, clearly on his way to get another one. “McGee, book her into the class, create a basic background. DiNozzo, I want you in as back-up tomorrow. Work out your cover.” He breezes past them, and Ziva thinks that’s it, but then Gibbs pauses, looks at her and Tony with a deliberate smirk. “But, congratulations, you two.”
McGee just about hides a snicker behind his hand, and Ziva sends her meanest glare his way (at least, the meanest she can muster for someone she usually likes) before standing up and heading to the break room. She needs something awful and sugary to keep her head on straight tonight, and the vending machines are calling her.
“Hey, hey easy there!” comes a familiar voice from behind her just as she reaches the vast wall of treats behind the glass, and she sighs as she slows to a stop. What’s been asked of them, and her, is a lot on short notice, and there’s potentially a lot of lives at stake with all the girls and all their children. She’s not really in the mood for Tony making jokes right now, if that’s why he’s here. “We gotta work out a cover, remember?”
She looks around from the vending machine, staring Tony down. Almost unsurprisingly, though, he barely blinks at her glare, and she wonders quite what it must says that he’s unbothered by her. She supposes she’s probably sent him the same look so often its impact has worn off. With a roll of her eyes instead, then, she looks away, looks over the many many candy bars and cookies and cake slices she can choose from instead.
“Tony, it is a Lamaze class, we will not be under much scrutiny or interrogation.”
He huffs out a sigh behind her, and she hears his footsteps get closer, feels his warmth just a safe distance from her back. His presence is known, familiar, but she doesn’t let herself indulge in it.
“Okay, I’ve never been to one of these classes, but I think we actually have to look like a couple. If we weren’t, I don’t think I’d be there at all.”
She narrows her eyes at a Reese’s cup.
“Maybe we are not together,” she suggests, more for the sake of arguing and keeping him away than actually thinking it’s a good idea. “Maybe I got pregnant and you did not want to be a part of your child’s life but you are there out of a sense of duty and decency only.”
“Or, that’s a totally miserable cover and maybe we should just pretend to like each other.”
At that, she spins around. “Pretend?” she repeats. He almost definitely didn’t mean her, Ziva, but her, whatever her cover will be, but his wording still irks her a little, even at just the idea. “You do not like me?”
Tony just smiles a little, not even fazed.
“I think if I got you pregnant I like you plenty, Ziva David,” he jokes, and that does make her snort a quick laugh before she can help it. He bursts into a grin; clearly, making her smile was his intention. Sighing, since he’s reeled her into this anyway, she tries to think about things rationally.
“You are probably right. But I feel like I may need to get onto the girls’ side. We could not find a record of anyone else in their social circles attending the class other than just Marissa and Charlotte– presumably, no fathers. I think an overly-loving couple would alienate them from opening up, if they think we have nothing in common with them.”
He rolls his lips before her, nods in acceptance.
“Okay. But I’m still gonna be there.” Though it’s Gibbs’ order, something in Tony’s tone suggests to Ziva that he’s decided he’ll be there for sure, anyway. As her partner, on her side. It’s just natural by now. “How about you head in first, I get in a little later. You can say I’m kinda a mess of a boyfriend but devastatingly hot so you stick with me.”
“They will not believe me when they see you, though,” she deadpans, and his jaw actually drops.
“Ouch. That hurts, Ziva,” he says, sounding almost serious, and she chuckles and pats his cheek softly. Thankfully, they both know just how good he looks.
“You should go tell McGee. Make sure he establishes an unmarried cover for us.”
Tony nods, but then pauses. “Right. But, tomorrow…” he trails off, teasing glint in his eyes, and she just knows where his head’s at.
“You are not coming to the prosthetic fitting, DiNozzo.”
“But what if it’s not convincing–”
“I will have Abby come down with me to ensure it is. You will see me pregnant when we are in that Lamaze class, and no earlier, besides, it is plastic and styrofoam, you will not be missing anything exciting.”
“You spoil all the fun.”
“I will get a KitKat and give you two of the fingers.” she says, without missing a beat, and he beams his brightest of grins. She loves that one.
“Have I told you lately how lucky I am you’re having my kid?”
She smacks him on the butt and feeds a dollar into the machine, very much not focusing on what tomorrow will bring.
She can’t help but feel nervous as she slips into the nice little room. There’s tinny calming music playing from an old speaker in the corner, peaceful colors painted on the walls, a general relaxed, soothing feel to the whole place. But they don’t distract her enough from the giant signs set up on frames around the room. Instructions and summaries of the class about to come, filled with happy, smiling women. Pregnant women. Women who look about as pregnant as she’s supposed to be.
The prosthetic is heavier than she’d expected. She’s supposed to be seven months along, or so the techs said and therefore so she’ll say for the cover, but the thing feels giant, and she can’t imagine how she’d cope if she really had to carry it constantly for two more months, let alone if it were real, moving, getting even bigger and kicking her constantly in places she’d rather it didn’t.
The fitting had not been an awful affair. It had been strange, at first, to feel the giant belly weighing her down, to get used to the alternate balance and feel of it, but there’d also been a moment where she’d just held it and couldn’t help but smile. Mostly in disbelief, humour, but a little bit at the idea of it all, Just a little, and just for a second, because she can’t let herself think that way, not on this assignment, for one, but not at all. Letting herself think that… Besides, the thing is more uncomfortable the longer she’s standing around.
Thankfully, when she gets back to the office or goes home, she can undo it and slip it off. The women on the photos, and unless anyone else is running an undercover op here, the rest of the women in this room, they can’t.
Sighing as she cracks her neck and absentmindedly drums her fingers on her fake stomach, she looks around the space, immediately recognising two of the young women stood chatting in a corner across from her. Her marks. Marissa Evans and Charlotte Jones look like ordinary girls, happy, even glowing a little. They don’t look like the kind of girls who are involved in a pregnancy pact and maybe even a murder. And yet, they are.
Since the class isn’t due to start for another few minutes, she leaves her bags and coat by the hooks at the side of the room, and makes her way around, passing happy couples– and one rather grumpy one– and smiling politely as she goes. A few are interacting and chatting, and from what she overheard the conversations are pretty much baby based, how are you finding it, is this your first, and so on. Nobody catches her eye to bring her into their conversation, thankfully, and eventually she gets close to the girls and ramps up her act a little to get their attention. She huffs out a sigh and looks toward her wrist, which they notice, and then, feigning exasperation, she looks up to the ceiling, then pats her pockets and looks around the room.
“It’s 1:55,” Marissa says, and Ziva turns with a smile blooming on her face. She falls into her cover easily; frazzled, domestic, and American. Just what these girls would be expecting in an afternoon Lamaze class in the middle of DC.
“God, thank you. I left my phone over there and I thought I had a watch on today, but, baby brain,” She waves a hand, pulls a stupid forgetful face, and the girls chuckle. “I was just wondering if I can be mad at my boyfriend yet, he told me he’d be here from work on time. I guess he’s got a couple minutes yet, but he’s cutting it close.”
“Four minutes, now, then you can get mad,” Charlotte says, and Ziva smirks, playing up the cover. Tony is actually right on time, of course, but their plan is already working: his ‘lateness’ has, as they’d thought, given her an in with the girls and something to share with them, so now Tony can make his entrance pretty soon. Currently, she presumes he’s hanging out with Gibbs and McGee in a van down the street, listening in. She’d seen the vehicle but had stayed clear of it just in case anyone on the other side of the law was keeping watch. Ordinarily they wouldn’t need such surveillance, but they have no other leads and this case keeps increasing in stakes. Though Ziva is mic’d up and fitted with an earwig, it’s less for her benefit and more for the others’; if they find out anything solid from Charlotte and Marissa, they can move in and make sure they’re safe and the killer isn’t watching them.
That should only be once Tony arrives, though, and Ziva finds herself hoping he does still show up on time. If he waits too long, she’s not sure she’s got enough baby knowledge to keep up the chatter with the girls, or any other expectant mothers if they come her way. While she’s lived so many covers in her life, and a few mothers, this is the first time she’s straight up pretended to be pregnant. She just hopes to god nobody asks her about her birthing plan.
“Oh, I like you,” she says to the girls, reaching out a hand in greeting. “Rebecca.”
The girls introduce themselves, and Marissa grins. “Best thing about being pregnant is people just let you be mad.”
Quirking an amused eyebrow at that, Ziva leans a little closer, bringing up the covers McGee had quickly established for them last night. “Honestly, when Devon first mentioned this class I got mad at him, because it’s like, I know how to breathe, and I didn’t want to come. But now I’m mad at him for almost not being here, y'know?” They crack up a little more, and Ziva smiles. “Is this your first, both of you?”
“Yeah. It’s all pretty new, but we’re so excited, we can’t wait.”
“Oh, do you two know each other?” She slips it in casually, stroking her fake stomach. It feels weird: not like tough plastic, almost soft like skin, yet taut at the same time. It looks convincing, but she’s not sure an expert would be fooled if they touched it. All the more reason for Tony to get here before the class starts so she’s not paired up with a total stranger.
“Yeah, ever since freshman year.” Charlotte beams, and Ziva nods like she didn’t already know that so well. Shelby’s parents had said all the girls had been close since the start of high school.
“That is so cute. I wish I was pregnant at the same time as my friends, but they’ve all gone through it,” she lies through her teeth, hoping it’ll get the girls to open up even more. “It’s like it’s just me and Devon left behind.”
“It’s the best,” Marissa croons, linking her arm through Charlotte’s. “We’re going through all the same crap, all at the same time. And we’re lucky, too, we have some other friends who’re also pregnant, it’s awesome. We’re all signed up to classes like this together so nobody has to go alone.”
Keeping her smile up, Ziva not to act too relieved at the fact that she’s basically had confirmation of the pact already. Before she can make more small talk, though, the door bursts open loudly, and she has to hold back a laugh at the sight of Tony sheepishly stopping in his tracks, feeling the eyes of thirty people, half of whom are pregnant, all watching him.
Instead, she rolls her eyes. “Right on time,” she remarks to the girls, and watches as Tony awkwardly dumps his things by hers and heads over her way, his eyes frequently drifting down to the bump and back.
Despite her warning to him yesterday, she’d been surprised that Tony hadn’t found his way to the NCIS basement while she was being fitted with the prosthetic. He hadn’t even poked a head around the door to sneak a look before fleeing; he’d, unusually, stayed away, and since they’d made their way here separately, he hasn’t seen the rather noticeable addition to her figure in person yet. Abby had been there to approve the size and fit of the prosthetic, though, and had taken a photo of Ziva in the stupid bright yellow shirt the ops team had made her wear over the bump. Ziva had thought her friend would send it to Tony immediately, but judging by the stunned look he’s sending her stomach right now, she thinks he’d been in the dark. She gets it– the sight of such a large bump is probably a little strange for her partner. It’s been more than strange for her to see. She also knows, though, that if he was there, he’d have caught that little moment when she smiled. Got caught up in thoughts. Abby had missed it, been too distracted by taking photos, but Tony would’ve seen when her tolerating smile turned real, when the moment hit her.
He keeps walking her way, still staring, and she forces herself to focus. Tony may be seeing her like this for the first time, but for 'Devon’, her slightly tardy boyfriend, it’s supposed to be something he’s been seeing for seven months. She sends her partner as subtle a chastising look as she can, and he must feel her eyes on him for he looks up at her again.
“Sorry,” he says when gets to her side, a little breathless. “Boss knew I had to be out by 1:30, but he still kept me late.” Without missing a beat, he plants a brief kiss to her lips, sweet and soft, then runs a hand over her bump like he’s done it every day for months. She tries to suppress the heartwarming thrill his actions send through her. It’s been a long time since they played a couple for any length of time, and when they last had, it was the horny married kind, not the expectant loving lamaze class kind. This is new, and strange, yet Tony seems to be acting like it’s an every day thing he’s very used to doing. Sometimes, Ziva thinks she underestimates her partner. “How are–”
“We are fine,” she says, anticipating his next clichéd question, then keeps up her slightly pissed front and narrows her eyes. “No thanks to your timing.”
“Hey, I–”
“Oh, Devon, this is Charlotte and Marissa,” she introduces, interrupting his defence, and Tony sends them amicable waves.
“See, I told you you’d make friends, I knew I was right,” he says, a little pointed, and she narrows her eyes at him again. Charlotte and Marissa giggle a little, and Tony clears his throat. “I mean, uh, you were right. It’s you, you’re great. Am I doing this right?”
She does slap him, then, and rolls her eyes amicably so the girls can see.
Thankfully the instructor clears her throat, and they all fall into a circle around her as the class begins. As Ziva had expected, after introductions they split up into couples or partners, and Charlotte and Marissa partner each other through each breathing exercise, each positive affirmation. She and Tony both make an effort, too, but she knows they’re both more focused on the teenagers to their side. They both seem completely content with their lives, not at all worried about the pregnancy or even their missing friend, which, Ziva presumes, since they placed such importance on friendship, suggests they don’t actually know Shelby is missing. Ziva would certainly bet that they had no involvement with Petty Officer Adam’s murder; while their sweetness may be an act, she can’t believe them as murderers, or even people connected to one. But they seem to have no qualms about their unofficial, or maybe official, pact, they don’t seem concerned about their futures. Which means Ziva will have to dig a little deeper to get some answers, not to her complete surprise. Sadly, it just means she’s going to have to keep the bump on a little longer.
The instructor tells them to change to another move, and Ziva rolls her eyes as Tony makes a big deal about walking behind her, flopping down with his legs surrounding hers, back pressed against her chest. He blows on her free ear, cold, and she swats him away.
“Behave, DiNozzo,” she says under her breath, but he just giggles and breathes on her again.
“I’m bored,”
“You’re lucky this is not really your unborn child because if you’d really told me you were bored–”
“If it were really mine I’d be awesome, and you know it. I just can’t get into it when the baby feels like a sponge.” She decides not to argue with him before their talking brings them unnecessary attention, and instead leans back into him and pretends to be listening to the instructor. Tony just stays close, breath soft against her neck. “It looks good on you, though.”
She frowns as he moves to massage her shoulders. “What?”
“You heard me,” he murmurs, and she finds herself a little speechless. He seems to be having that effect on her quite often, lately, and she’s not sure what to make of it. Amidst this whole assignment, Tony being this way, his softest, sweetest, most endearing and most most charming even if he doesn’t even consciously mean to be, is the last thing she needs.
Because there’s a reason she’s been so hesitant about this assignment, so much more nervous and analytical of it all than her usual relish for undercover work.
Because, truthfully, this life, the loved up future and the silly classes and the big old baby bump were things she’d been very close to considering, not so long ago. But instead of the man behind her now, she was thinking about it all with a different agent, a different man. One who’d killed a woman, lied to her about it, and tried to make like that was okay.
She’d punched him. It had felt good.
But since she left Ray Cruz on the airport tarmac a couple months ago, she’d put all thoughts of this kind of future out of her mind. Hidden them, the quiet dreams, the blissful family hopes. Because it’s been the only way to cope with thinking about it, let herself finally think that yes, she wants that, yes, it’s her dream, and then losing it all so so abruptly and painfully. Now she’s right back in that world again, but it’s just an illusion, nothing’s real. The bump is fake, this relationship is fake, the words Tony is whispering about how great she’s doing are doubly fake, and this whole thing, with him by her side, is a lie.
But she almost wishes it weren’t.
Before she can wonder what the hell that means for her, the instructor tells them to get into groups and share their stories and birth tips for the final five minutes of the session. Tony stands up with an exaggerated groan, reaching out a hand to help her up, and for once, Ziva accepts. The prosthetic is heavy, and it’s messing with her balance, so she slips her hand into his and lets him pull her up. Marissa and Charlotte make their way over to them, grinning happily, and since Ziva really has no birth tips to share they manage to just chatter a little about the exercises before Charlotte sends them a look.
“So, this is your first kid, right?”
“Yeah,” Tony says, fingers lightly squeezing Ziva’s own, and she tries not to blink in surprise. She hadn’t realised she’d been yet to let go. Forcing a smile onto her face, she looks up at her partner, finding him already beaming down at her.
“Do you know what you’re having? Our friend Shelby didn’t want any of us to find out because she said you should be, like, surprised for your first kid, but I wanna brag to her if you know because I think half the people in this class do.” Marissa rambles, and while Ziva tucks away the reference to their missing girl, she finds her free hand stroking her fake stomach.
“We’re having a girl.”
It comes out before she’s even thought about it. Tony doesn’t flinch to her side, but his hand grips hers tighter suddenly, and she supposes she should be glad that’s all he’s reacting. They hadn’t had a moment to discuss this part of cover properly. Yesterday McGee had still been coming up with identities and names, and today she’d been sent down to ops the moment she’d arrived in the office. How 'Devon and Rebecca’ met, how long they’ve known each other, their whole pregnancy 'journey’ as the instructor had called it, is still a blind spot. And Ziva’s just thrown that on him, their baby, a girl.
But god, she can’t deny that in those dreams she has, the quiet little fantasies where a life like this is real, she really wants to have a girl. A little girl who can do anything, be anyone, live the life Ziva should have gotten to live, her sister should’ve lived. Every time she lets herself think about the future, now, she imagines herself having a little girl.
“Class is over but we can’t risk waiting days to find Matthews.” Gibbs says gruffly in her ear. “Keep it up, invite them for coffee or somethin’, get more outta them.”
Marissa and Charlotte coo and aww, obviously unaware of Gibbs’ words, but Tony must sense that Ziva’s not quite back in the cover yet, since he jumps in, carries their plan along.
“Are you and the peanut hungry again, babe?” he asks, sweet as can be. “I saw there’s a coffee shop across from here, they had a big case full of pastries.”
“I keep telling you, she is far past a peanut now,” Ziva drawls, like this is a conversation they’ve had several times before, but since she skipped lunch to get here on time, the concept of pastries makes her stomach growl. “But yes, we are.” She turns to Marissa and Charlotte. “Would you guys like to join us? I don’t know about you but even just sitting on the floor made me hungry again.”
Charlotte giggles. “Sure,” she says, and when Marissa agrees the same– they certainly seem to act as a pair– they get their belongings from their hooks, say a cheerful farewell to the instructor, and make their way to the cafe, chatting inconsequently the whole time. As they step inside, Ziva subtly eyes the delivery company van parked down the street that houses McGee and Gibbs (although she also wouldn’t be surprised to find her boss in line for a refill in this very store).
Before she can order a decaf latte, the barista– a smiling older woman– looks at her stomach.
“Oh, how sweet. How far along are you?”
“Seven months. I–”
“Oh, isn’t it just the best time in the world? My Andrew is a teenager now, completely disgusting, I wish I could be pregnant again.” And then, before Ziva can object, the woman reaches out and taps the bump. Instead of worrying about the cover, though, Ziva just finds herself reaching for the knife at her waist, about to stab the barista for such a gross invasion of her personal space.
Tony chuckles loudly, rubbing his hand on her lower back to hold off the attack.
“Ha. Funny. Can we get two decaf lattes, one with a hazelnut shot, and that giant chocolate muffin over there, also, this?”
He tosses a bag of kettle chips grabbed from nowhere onto the counter, and, either too unobservant or simply too stunned by Tony’s sudden quick order, the barista just nods and says nothing of the fake bump she’d just touched. Ziva brushes it off, with a mild prayer for keeping her personal space for the rest of the day, and the girls order too. They stay away from all things baby talk until Ziva’s devoured the muffin and stolen half of Tony’s packet of chips.
“So honestly, what did you think of that class?” she asks, tone light, conversational. “Like I said, I wanted to go, but I’m still not totally sold we actually needed it.”
“I thought it was cute,” Marissa says with a shrug. “Kinda repetitive, but nice I guess.”
Charlotte nods in agreements, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Yeah. I mean it’s a lot like our friends said it would be, two of them went to one last week, but it’s useful I guess. We’re due at a similar time but I really wanna be Shelby’s birthing partner. Her parents aren’t really cool with it all, it sucks.”
Sensing a turn in the conversation, Ziva nudges Tony beneath the table, and he clears his throat.
“I’m just gonna go call Leroy, babe, in case he’s forgotten I have the afternoon off.” With a smile and a quick kiss, which she once more finds herself way too comfortable with, he’s gone, standing outside the door but only miming into his phone since she can’t hear a thing in her earpiece. She clears her throat before turning to the girls across from her.
“Can I ask you something?” They nod, but look a little like they know what she’s going to say. She makes sure to sound hesitant, like she’s curious but knows what she saying could be intruding. “You’ve only mentioned your friends. You haven’t mentioned boyfriends, partners. And you both seem pretty young, I guess your friends are too, a-are you doing this by yourselves?”
Marissa shrugs. “We want to. We wanna have kids, we don’t want relationships.”
Ziva sighs, worries her lip between her teeth a little, both for the cover and as she works out the best way to keep the girls talking without making them shut down.
“I get that. I just… For all that Devon drives me crazy– and he really does–” The girls chuckle as she rolls her eyes at fake memories (though some visions of Tony’s very real ridiculous antics fill her mind). “I just don’t think I’d wanna do this without him unless I really really had to. For you all to be doing this on your own, this young…”
“Rebecca, seriously,” Marissa says, stopping her with a still-open smile. “This is what we wanted. We all just wanna have a baby, that’s what we’re doing.”
Ziva forces herself to frown, act like she’s putting the pieces together. “Wait, like… you wanna be by yourselves?”
“Yeah,” Charlotte says, like it’s obvious. “I mean, our parents think it was all just an accident but we all wanted it, so we set out to find it. We’re independent like that.”
Staying on their good side, Ziva smiles a little. “Huh.” she says, trying to sound impressed. “And the fathers…”
“Don’t know or don’t care.” Marissa says, bluntly, but then frowns a little. “Well, I think Brian cares.”
The name rings a faint bell in her mind, and just as she’s wondering why it seems so familiar to her, to this case, Gibbs pipes up in her ear.
“Ziva, Brian was Adams’ roommate’s name.”
The one who’d mentioned Shelby, and her being pregnant with Petty Officer Adams’ child, in the first place. The one who led them here.
“Brian?” Ziva asks casually, sipping her latte while her brain runs a mile a minute with theories, thoughts.
“Yeah. Our friend Amy’s having his kid, she told him and, god, he did not react well. I mean, he wasn’t really so mad at her, more at his friend Nate? Shelby started this whole thing with him, and he was cool with it, but he set Amy up with Brian and when Brian found out, he… Actually, I don’t know what he did.”
Gibbs huffs. “I’m gonna guess it involved a corkscrew. He played us.”
Ziva shrugs to the girl, acting noncommittal, while inside she rages momentarily at their killer leading them astray for so long, them almost letting him escape right under their noses.
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” she says, even as she sees Tony slipping back into the cafe. He catches her eye, winks a little flirtily at her though nobody but her is watching, and she smiles.
“We’re moving in.” Gibbs says, and Tony sits back down by Ziva’s side.
“All good?”
“All good.” he says, then leans in and nuzzles her nose.
“Now you two, are cute. You totally make sense.” Marissa says with a grin.
They send bashful smiles as Charlotte nods.
“Oh my god, totally. Your kid is so lucky to have parents as in love as you two are.”
Behind the girls, Gibbs and McGee walk into the cafe.
“Thanks,” Tony says, planting another soft kiss on Ziva’s forehead, just as their coworkers round their table. He pulls back, and Ziva watches as he eyes them sharply. “Okay, girls, you need to tell us everything you know about Brian.”
The girls blink in surprise, and Ziva sighs, running a hand over her fake stomach.
She stretches her neck in relief as she leans back in her desk chair, finally hitting print on her report. It’s been a long day, followed by an overnight arrest, safe recovery of their missing girl, and interrogation of Brian Sanders, all after the Lamaze events of now-yesterday afternoon. They’d been lucky; while they’d thought the killer had taken Shelby purely because of her connection to Adams, Sanders’ plan for tomorrow (now today, Ziva supposes) had involved kidnapping Amy, the girl pregnant with his child, and then actually going after the three other girls involved in the pact. Shelby had been the brains behind it all, so he’d taken her first, and then killed his old college buddy Adams for getting him connected to the pact, before planning to take down everyone else involved, too. And then he’d managed to mislead the entire MCRT and almost cost the lives of all the girls. Ziva knows that their logic was twisted, that they’re young and rather foolish to think a pregnancy pact would be a good idea to get what they wanted, but they certainly didn’t deserve to be hurt by a jilted, angry guy over it all.
With each girl safe and returned to their parents, and each baby still doing well, Ziva hopes they can just move on and live as happy lives as possible.
She pats her stomach idly. In all the rush, she hasn’t managed to make it downstairs and back to ops to return the prosthetic yet. It’s a complicated thing to undo, since it had to be so realistic in its fit that a Lamaze instructor and entire class would be fooled, and theoretically all the prosthetics are designed to potentially stay on for days at a time. With how fast the case had gone after Charlotte and Marissa telling them all they knew, Ziva had had no free moment to properly undress and then get someone to undo the clips at the back, and even if she had she’d have still been stuck in a big old maternity shirt. And so she’d just kept it on, even during the arrest. With the added bulk and her boss’ general determination, Gibbs had charged in first and cuffed Sanders before Ziva was even out of the Charger.
Hoisting herself up, she takes a moment to regain her center and heads to the printer, reaching for the report, before swiping Tony’s stapler off his desk and quickly fastening the many pages together.
“I saw that, ninja-plus-one,” he says, and she smirks as he heads back into the bullpen.
Setting the stapler back down on his desk, she sends him a knowing look.
“I should have known you wouldn’t have left yet.”
“Well, why would I when I have so many nicknames to use up before you get that thing off? I’ve got so many jokes about our future ninja baby, Ziva, they’d be wasted otherwise.”
She rolls her eyes, heading back to her desk and putting her report within her case file for today’s events, then moving to Gibbs’ desk and setting it by Tony and McGee’s reports.
“Thankfully, I can go and get this off me now, and I can be spared your jokes.”
“Yeah,” he says, but his tone is a little less teasing than she’d expect, and she looks over at him with a frown.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, heading over to her desk. She lifts up her coat, but doesn’t bother putting it on for the short journey down to ops.
Tony just watches her, a soft look in his eye that she can’t recognise properly.
“Nah, just… I don’t know,” he shrugs. “It was kinda fun there, for a bit. Felt kinda real.”
And just like that, she’s speechless again. Tony just watches her, quiet, evidently unsure how she’ll proceed, and unsure how to act until she does. Eventually, she clears her throat, reaches for her bag. Pretends it’s normal for him to say such things, that pretending to be with her, her pretending to be pregnant with his child, felt real. She suddenly remembers a moment all those years ago, pretending to be those married assassins, when they’d discovered Sophie Ranier had been pregnant when she died. Tony had sidled over to her, hands in his pockets and the exact same glint in his eye as now, as he tried to picture her pregnant. She wonders if his picture looked at all like the sight before him in this instant, right now, in the middle of the bullpen.
“Come on,” she says, trying to move them on from the thoughts in both their minds. “You can come with me to ops, tell me more of your nicknames.”
He blinks.
“Now I know I went too far if you’re actually offering to hear more of my dumb jokes.” His words are quiet, almost like he didn’t mean for her to hear them, but he did, she knows, or he wouldn’t have said them at all. He slips his jacket on wordlessly, avoiding her gaze, and she gathers the rest of her things before taking a step toward the elevator. They walk in silence, wait for the car in the quiet early morning office surroundings, but after a few moments she decides she can’t let this go, not now, not today.
And so she takes a deep breath.
“You did not go too far,” she murmurs, and he tenses by her side. The elevator arrives, and they’ve stepped inside and started moving before he replies.
“You sure?”
She could lie, could avoid it like she always does, but it’s been the longest day, the strangest kinda case, with her emotions and thoughts running everywhere. Instead, she goes for honesty as she keeps her eyes on the metal doors before them.
“Yes. It…” God, why is this so hard? Why is being open about something she felt so often the toughest thing she endures? “It felt real to me at times, too. When I said it was a girl, I–”
“You got a little lost in it?”
Biting her lip, she leans forward, hits the emergency switch and looks toward her partner. The thoughts she’s been having the past two days fill her mind again, spill out a little.
“This kind of life. The happy stupid life, where you, you go to birthing classes, and talk about how in love you are, and total strangers begin to lose any regard for your personal space, it’s… I was so close, to it, not that long ago.”
“I know,” Tony murmurs, looking at the floor.
“But I did not get it.”
“Not yet.”
She laughs a little bitterly, crosses her arms atop the bump. Idly, she remembers Tony the other month, asking if she was happy or just content as she thought about the future slipping from her sights.
“Tony, that is very optimistic, but–”
“No.” He looks up at her, eyes burning. “Ziva, if you want that, that future, then you’ll get it. Maybe without the creepy invasive baristas– I mean, seriously, I hope not, on that.” She giggles, genuine this time, and his smile softens momentarily before he sobers yet again. “Come on, you of all people deserve it, that kinda happiness. Seriously, I–” He sighs, sharp, shaking his head. Her pulse races in her ears, she can hear it, the thundering pounding at his honesty, the raw belief in her. But then he breaks his gaze and looks away. “You’ll get that little girl, I know you will.”
She’s not sure she could’ve looked him in the eyes as he promised that, either. And she has no idea what to say to him, at his determination and faith in her future. Her worth. Sometimes she’s just reminded of how much she adores Tony DiNozzo.
But she can’t tell him that. She never can. Instead, she just steps forward, slips her arms around his neck and pulls him to her in a hug, smiling into his shoulder as he attempts to hug her back against the giant prosthetic squashed between them.
“Thank you, Tony,” she murmurs, and he squeezes her a little before letting go. His eyes are soft when she meets them again, and he smiles a little bashfully as she switches the elevator back on. His belief in her is something else, something she herself feels she’s lost so many times, but she can’t help but think, maybe he’s right. Maybe someday she will get it. She swallows, looks at Tony out the corner of her eye. He still looks a little awkward, a little embarrassed, and she knows that being so open is alien to them both. “Tony, this conversation…?”
He looks over at her.
“I… It never happened, right?” He sounds saddened and relieved in equal measure.
“Maybe for now,” she murmurs, and he nods, slow, by her side. She drifts a hand over her stomach once more, and a sudden image fills her mind.
A little girl, soft round cheeks, a head full of wild light curls, and eyes a hint of hazel and green and brown. A giant grin, a fire in her veins. A mix of them both.
She thinks she’ll call her Tali. Someday.
Her breath catches, and without even thinking, she reaches for Tony, clutches his fingers tight.
He doesn’t let go until they reach the undercover department. When she comes out, stomach once again flat and her own, he throws an arm around her shoulder, tells her another bad nickname, and she stays by his side the whole way to his car.
Thinking, someday. Someday.