𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ━━ 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐳𝐳𝐨

TWENTY EIGHT | stomach flu

"I brought clothes, a toothbrush, and —"

"Pizza."

Tony — gowned and robed — pulls me taut into him, my back to his chest, and his breath tickling my ear.

Only noticeable to me, the agent relaxes against my mere touch.

"Eva."

Gibbs and Dr. Rachel Cranston, Kate's older sister, occupy the chairs near the foot of the bed, the exhaustion of another late night evident on their faces.

"Sorry it took a while." I graze a hand over Tony's gripping forearm. "Even at this hour, traffic was a bitch."

Dr. Cranston sits up in her seat. "You know, Agent DiNozzo and I need a little time alone. Would you two mind?"

"Not at all —"

"Think I could have at least a minute alone with my wife before you work your psychiatric magic on me?"

The typically sarcastic agent shoots down my attempt to abide by the doctor's wishes. The two leave the room, and Tony nuzzles the pointed tip of his nose against my cheek.

"Sorry I didn't make it to dinner."

"It's okay. You had your plate full."

His chest and my back rumble with an echoing laugh.

"Hope you didn't make anything too special."

"You really think after being with you all these years I'd put effort into dinner?"

On the contrary, I'd been slaving away in a kitchen for the last three hours before Gibbs called with the disturbing news of Tony's hospitalization.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Alright, nice candle-lit dinner."

I flick the flame over the last candle.

"The humbling voice of Frank Sinatra."

"One For My Baby (And One More For The Road)", to be specific.

Bing!

"And dinner's ready."

My trembling hand smooths over the fabric of the red dress I'd adorned, the other reaching for the silver bands on my ring finger.

"And for the final touch."

I grab one of the fresh rolls from the centerpiece basket and place it inside the oven. The moment it's inside, I toss it away in revolt.

"I have got to stop watching cheesy videos online."

Just when I expect my charming husband to enter through the front door, the landline rings with an incoming call.

Gibbs' name flashes over the miniscule screen.

"Gibbs, if this isn't a life or death situation, I really can't talk right now."

"Tony was in an accident. Has a head injury."

". . .I'm on my way."

- - - - - - - - - -

Having talked for more than time allows, Dr. Cranston re-enters with Gibbs in tow, declaring that she needs to talk to Tony.

The two of us bid our farewells before stopping just down the hallway. My right foot taps erratically but stops only a few moments later, which Gibbs senses.

"You're not stressed?"

"Gibbs, I've been in this situation more than I want to be. You know that."

"Are you not letting yourself react due to something else?"

My back slides against the crisp white wall, knees curled into my chest instinctively. A forced chuckle leaves my lips.

"How the hell do you know?"

"You can't hide things from me. You know that."

- - - - - - - - - -

"I've been up and in the bathroom in the earliest hours, Dr. Manson. Starts off with the previous night's dinner and ends with dry heaving."

"And you think it's the stomach flu?"

"Of course it is. What else could it be?"

The lovely woman in front of me hugs a clipboard to her chest, the faintest of grins spreading across her cheeks.

"You and Tony are still trying, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with — oh."

My lips purse at the sheer stupidity of my occupied mind. She nods her head in amusement of my realization before reaching for a sealed cup.

"You know the drill, Evaline."

Three minutes after I've emptied my bladder, she returns with the results.

"So?"

"Congratulations. You're pregnant."

- - - - - - - - - -

"How far along are you?"

"Five weeks today. Only found out a few days ago."

The top of his calloused hand grazes over my head, and I look up. A paternal smile full of joy and pride graces his features.

"Congratulations, Eva."

"Thanks, L.J.."

"You haven't told him?"

"Not with how the last few weeks have gone."

Soon, a nurse from the front desk has me fill out the forms for Tony's discharge when a man approaches me.

"Special Agent Giudice?"

"Who's asking?"

His hand slips into his blazer pocket to yank out a badge. "Agent Stratton, F.B.I.. Busy night, huh?"

"You can say that." A few moments pass, and the agent remains standing. "Look, can I help you or are you just gonna stare?"

"Yeah, uh, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. We got wind that he may have been involved in an altercation with another federal agent. Can you verify that?"

Clipboard in hand, I walk away silently.

"Well, is Agent DiNozzo a patient in this hospital or not?"

"Look, Agent Stratton —"

Gibbs turns the corner, his watchful gaze falling upon the both of us.

"Evaline?"

"This is Agent Stratton from the F.B.I.." The three-letter acronym exits my parted lips distastefully.

"Special Agent Gibbs." The graying man extends his hand towards the agent. "I can answer whatever questions you have."

Soon after Gibbs has talked to Stratton and discussed with Fornell, the truth of the prior night's events surfaces — Tony didn't kill anyone.

"Ready to head out?"

Tony glances back, finally changes out of the hospital gown to normal clothes.

"More than ready."