𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ━━ 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐳𝐳𝐨

TWENTY NINE | a mother's duty

"I'm gonna be sick."

Tony, Ziva, and McGee stand in the center of the bullpen carrying trash bins from various desks in search of the smell.

"It isn't bad enough to throw up from, is it?" Ziva questions with frowned brows. "Intolerable? Yes. But not vomit-inducing."

"I'm wearing nose plugs from now on."

Gibbs arrives with Agent Borin trailing behind him and pulls out a container of day-old takeout, sniffing it before taking a bite.

Without a second thought, I yank one of the trash bins from the others and empty my stomach of its contents. Once I come up for air, five faces of confusion and minimal concern flash back.

"Told you I was gonna be sick."

"Rest of you, grab your gear." Borin breaks for a gulp of coffee. "Dead Coast Guard petty officer on a ship towed into Norfolk Naval Base. Joint jurisdiction."

I graciously grasp the bottle of blue mouthwash from Tony's hand. "What do you mean the rest of you?"

"Can't go to a crime scene when you're sick." Gibbs flashes a glance.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, you are?"

He and I settle for an expressionless stare at one another, neither breaking eye contact with the other for even a second.

". . .what are they doing?"

"I don't know. This is uncharted territory."

"It can't be good, can it?"

Regardless of what he may have been hinting towards earlier, Gibbs succumbs and lets me join the team.

While Ducky fell into the trance of another story, he notices a clanking sound from below deck — in Morse code for S.O.S.. Upon inspection, we come across a family of stowaways, who are then separated and interrogated on the ship.

"Ms. Bawali, please focus on answering the questions."

The mother of the family turns away from the circular window, a distance haze in her eyes.

"Mariam." She tugs the ends of her shawl. "My name is Mariam."

"Mariam, do you remember any of the crew members?" I restate the question.

"I think there were three. I do not remember exactly."

My pen grazes against the notebook as I jot down notes.

"We wish only freedom. Yet you do not allow us to go free. Why?" Silence ensues within the room. "Do you have family, Agent Giudice?"

". . .yes." I glance at her through the hoods of my eyes.

She takes a few steps towards me. "Then you must know it is a mother's duty to protect."

Before proceeding, however, a few men enter the room with brown paper bags filled to the brim with food. At first, Mariam refuses the "charity" but soon realizes she needs to take care of her family.

"Your parents must be proud to have you as a daughter. You have a good maternal instinct."

The second-to-last word in the sentence sends a chill down my back, and I begin taking out various ingredients from the bags.

"Do you have any children, Agent Giudice?"

"You can call me Eva. And, um. . ."

Sensing the hesitation in my words, she nods briefly. "Congratulations, Eva."

"How did you know?"

"All women bearing children have a certain glow to them."

Upon returning to headquarters, Abby discovers there was no crew for days, meaning one of the family members had shot the Coast Guard victim. And an agitated discussion with Mariam revealed she was not the one to shoot him.

But she accepted the blame for it.

"I cannot believe Mariam would lie to protect this man."

"Well, maybe she thought it was the best decision to make."

"Or maybe she lied to protect herself."

Borin struts through the desks. "Speaking of liars, father Farid was in the Lebanese army, meaning he knows how to handle a firearm. I've got my guys pulling everything they can on him."

"Eva. . ."

Tony enters the room with a low groan.

"Farid spilled his laundry detergent all over the place, and I got some on my pants. I must have-I must have missed a spot."

Tony lifts up the back of his blazer while pulling out a tissue.

"Could you get it for me?"

"Marriage needs to come with a warning label."

I push him down between his shoulder blades in a bent-over position before wiping away the detergent residue.

"My back isn't what it used to be —"

"Oh, grow up. You've put me in this position plenty of times."

"Special Agents Giudice and DiNozzo. Please stop doing whatever it is you're doing."

The two of us snap our heads towards the director standing next to McGee's desk.

"I was just —"

"I needed her to —"

Vance lifts a hand to silence us. "Agent David, back to the ship. Make sure nobody else gets off. Agent Borin, have your people put together an escort team. The cargo vessel is being refueled as we speak to take the family back to Lebanon."

"What about the father?"

"He's not going anywhere."

And his statement holds true when Gibbs interrogates Farrid within the building.

"Tony, are you sure that's laundry detergent?" I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers.

"Farrid said he was doing laundry." He shrugs his shoulders. "There were clothes in the pot of detergent. I mean, what else could it be?"

"Take your pants off, Tony." Abby slips in through the sliding doors of her own lab.

"What?"

"Just take your pants off. Now."

"Alright. Easy, now. As long as I have permission from the missus."

"Burn them for all I care."

Abby frowns lightly. "Your nose got sensitive. Like really sensitive."

"What do you mean?" My voice comes out nasally.

"The takeout container from this morning, the laundry detergent that isn't detergent. . .last month, you couldn't even smell the fresh batch of cupcakes I baked."

"Things can change."

After the team assembles to find Hakim nearly succeeding in his and his father's attempt to destroy the Norfolk Naval Base.

"Eva?"

"Dinner's almost ready, I promise."

Three showers, and Tony was finally rid of the perfume-like smell that seems to have embedded into his skin.

"What's this?"

A towel hangs at his hips, another wrapped around his neck, as he slowly walks out of the bathroom with something in his hand.

"You're pregnant?"

"Tony, I —"

"Answer the question, Evaline."

". . .surprise?"