Almost Skinny Love (NCIS/Tiva/McAbby)

Chapter One

Chapter One

McGee's POV

It's been four months. Four months since Ziva's set foot here, since things have been this way. Hell, it's been four months since Tony's watched a goddamn movie. Since Ziva left, Tony's been in pieces. It sucks seeing him like this, but it's been a hell of a trek for the rest of the team, too.
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I walked into the squadroom Monday morning with my usual coffee in my palm. Apparently my alarm clock decided to join in on the Monday morning laziness that seemed to radiate through DC this week by waking me up an hour late. Good morning to me.

I dragged my feet towards my desk, not paying attention to who else was at their desks. I knew Gibbs wasn't; he usually got coffee or talked with the director in the mornings. Luckily, there wasn't a newbie in the group; Gibbs wouldn't allow it, so Ziva's desk has been left unscathed since she's gone. I slid into my chair with a tired sigh and scanned the bullpen. No Gibbs, obviously no Ziva, and-- Tony.

Slowly creeping over to Tonys desk, I assessed his dark huddled form laying behind the table. His breathing was slow, but kind of uneven, like he had trying to catch his breath for a while now. His face was not peaceful, as he was most likely dreaming, or having a nightmare of Ziva. Probably fitfully, too, judging by the space he cleared around him and the silent sobs that rippled through him. I would say he was cold, but he was wrapped in his NCIS jacket and it was always 76 degrees or more in the squadroom.

I sighed, somewhat frustratedly and somewhat pitifully, and leaned down to wake him up. It wasn't the first time I've found Tony like this, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last. Ziva appeared in his dreams, or nightmares, usually, way too often. I mean, sometimes he talked in his sleep, and it seems someone tortured Ziva in his nightmares every night. I gently grabbed his shoulder and shook it.

"Tony? It's time for work," I whispered to avoid scaring him. No response. I shook him a little harder, hoping to wake him before Gibbs arrived.

Too late.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked from behind me.

"Boss?" Tony shot straight up, his forehead hitting me square in the chin.

"Ahh!" We both hissed, scuttling back and clutching our injuries.

"Gear up, boys, we have a dead marine outside of a family park," Gibbs ordered, "ah, McGee, you're fine." He slapped my back as he walked past me and Tony.

"Yessir," I agreed, grimacing slightly.

I looked down at Tony, still on the ground rubbing his forehead and staring at me. I widened my eyes in my version of a Gibbs Glare and grabbed my bag and coffee from behind my desk.

Tony was already ahead of me, backpack slung across his shoulders, and his NCIS hat and jacket still on. I followed him and Gibbs into the elevator and stood in front of the buttons. I glanced at Tony, noticing how he was leaning with his head on the wall and eyes closed. I knew how exhausted he's been lately and prodded him in the shoulder to give him my untouched hot coffee with a smile.

Tony's eyes fluttered open, confused, and realized what I was offering him. He looked at me inquisitively, as if he thought I'd pull something on him. I nodded encouragingly and smiled warmly. He smiled widely and accepted the coffee from me.

"Thanks McGiver, that really helps a lot." He said in between sips.

I shrugged politely, "yeah, it's what I do." The elevator stopped and Gibbs squeezed out before Tony and I could even react.

"Damn right it's what you do, McGee," Gibbs mumbled on his way out. If I was correct, I think I heard something in his voice, appreciation? Pride? My heart swelled at the thought of someone being proud of me as Tony and I walked out of the elevator behind Gibbs.

You know, one time for Father's Day, I made my dad a card. I went the whole nine yards, glitter, markers, it was great. I handed it to him and guess what he said? "You can do better. Try again."

I shook my head at the memory, feeling a little embarrassed of myself. Tony lead us out to our service car while Gibbs rushed over to his. I guess Tony knew I'd offer to drive, because he was already perched in the passenger seat with his head in his hand. I slid into the driver's seat and started up the cold car. Gibbs pulled out in front of us, obviously in a rush to get this over with. As we all were.

Tony and I were silent for about five minutes as I sped down the road. I think Tony thought I thought he was sleeping, but he definitely wasn't, seeing as his breath shuddered unevenly. I sighed frustratedly and broke the silence.

"Tony, what are you thinking about right now?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road and on Tony at the same time.

He took a deep breath through his nose and adjusted his position so he was almost sideways in his seat looking at me. I felt his eyes studying me, probably trying to tell whether or not I really wanted to know, which, I mean, I did. Tony cleared his throat and looked down at his fingers.

"I don't really know," he hesitated, "I guess I miss her, McGee. What d'you think she's doing right now? Working? Exploring? Dying, even?" His voice raised and cracked at the end of the question.

I stayed silent as we parked at the crime scene: the edge of the woods off of a vacant highway. Some family park. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, I turned to face a distraught Tony.

"Tony, she's fine. Ziva is fine. I know it, or I guess I can feel it." He grinned appreciatively at me, and got out of the car with me.

We assessed the crime scene in a short amount of time; an hour, two? Turns out our Petty officer Braline had been shot twice through the head, according to Ducky. I carried back the bagged evidence and placed each this in the trunk of mine and Tony's service car before climbing in the driver's seat. Tony slid in soon after Gibbs drove off with orders to start back to NCIS headquarters to identify what we could. Tony stayed quiet the whole ride by sleeping with his head tilted against the window.

Earlier, it wasn't hard to assure him that Ziva was doing well, because, frankly, I knew exactly how she was. I haven't told Tony, but Ziva had been sending me emails every few days, telling me how she was. Tony was under the impression that Ziva had been secretly sent back to Israel for a secret mission.

That's not true.

She still lives at her old apartment, which Tony thought was sold months ago. I'm not allowed to see her really, though we have Skyped about five times since her "departure". The only people who really knew were me, Director, and Gibbs. That's it. Gibbs assumed I could keep a secret, which was not a lie. I've kept many secrets from (few) people like when I was eight, my sister thought I threw out my action figures like she wanted. Nope. I hid them in the dysfunctional air vent above my bed and talked to them before I went to sleep at night.

I can keep a secret just fine. However, if you tell me to lie, odds are I'll past out from stress or I'll sweat worse than a guilty suspect. Besides, this wasn't lying, it was merely withholding information.

Anyways, as of last Tuesday, Ziva has been five months pregnant. With a baby that most likely was the result of a drunken night. Between her and an NCIS agent.

A very special agent, actually.

A special agent, funnily enough, I had found sleeping behind his desk almost every night for four months.

Very special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

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A/N:
Hi there! I'm Morgan, and I guess I just wanted to say hi? I don't know, but just a disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or CBS {although I wish I did}. I do, however own all of the events and made up characters (e.g., Petty Officer Braline)

Thank you for reading my story!
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