A/N: So, it took a few months to get this one out… The characters weren't playing like they should.

Chapter 18: Out of the darkness?

Tony hovers, trepidation seeping out of every pore. He clutches the tiny body to his chest, her breath hot on the skin of his neck. Xena coos, purses her lips, smacks them together. Quiet, content. She doesn't know what is expected of her; she is too young to understand the importance. Tony halts, falters in his step; this time, he will go into the room. This time... instead he keeps moving, walking. Perhaps a quick cup of canteen coffee and then, and then… he will go in. He's made a decision. He gives himself a self-satisfied nod; happy with his pep talk. He marches more purposefully towards the lift that will take him down to the hospital canteen. And away from her.

Stacey stands in the shadows, watching, waiting. Sighing she pulls her phone out of her pocket, quickly texts a message. Looks like Tony will need a little support, a little nudge with this one.

The shadow falls over courtyard table. Tony peers up, squints into the late afternoon sunlight, sees Gibbs framed there. Sniggers slightly at the glowing halo around his head. Trick of the light and the sun, but fitting none the less. The man has always been Ziva's guardian angel. Gibbs rests his hands, palms down on the table, leans forward. "So, you gonna sit here all afternoon?"

Not waiting for a response, he looks over to where Xena is lying in her stroller, fast asleep. "I know that it's not the great coffee that has kept you here for the past four hours," he mutters. Sits in the empty chair next to the stroller, pulls the blanket up a little more snuggly as the baby shifts, turns, grunts.

"How did you…" Tony begins, stuttering slightly…

"Stacey" they both utter, slightly different intonations. "She was worried about you," Gibbs says gruffly. "Saw you wearing a new groove outside of Ziver's room and thought that you may want…need… support."

Tony smiles faintly. Perhaps it is time, after all.

Gibbs stands just outside the door, gently shoves Tony forward, as he starts to back out again. "Xena is going to wake any minute now, and she is going to be hungry and need a diaper change… perhaps we come back later… or tomorrow…" Gibbs shakes his head. Gently nudges Tony forward again. "You know what you want to do, what you have got to do. Now is as good as time as any…"

"But…"

Gibbs gives the back of his head a light swipe. "Stop your whining and get on with it."

Tony has now moved to the side of Ziva's bed, stares down at his sleeping wife. "What if this doesn't work?" He whispers brokenly. "This is my last hope, Gibbs. What if she doesn't wake up? What then?"

Gibbs looks him direct in the eye: "Then we think of something else, son. She hasn't left us yet, has she? She's still in there somewhere. She just needs a little nudge."

With a watery smile, Tony gently places the still sleeping baby on Ziva's chest. "Now what?" he asks, a staggering breath.

Gibbs pulls out two chairs, placing them either side of Ziva – at arms' reach if Xena should wake.

"Now, we wait."

Ziva still doesn't know where or what she is, for that matter. Suspended. Somewhere between here and there. In limbo. Doesn't know how to describe this state she is in… Floating? Sinking? Flying? Drowning? Occasionally sounds, voices filter through to her muddled subconscious, and at those times she feels safe, content, loved. Other times she feels abandoned, cold, alone and it's those times she wants to retreat further into her clouds, into the nothingness that envelopes her.

There was a time, that she didn't know how, or why, but she needed to push through the mist, the confusion that clutches onto her, that keeps pulling her back down into the depths. She needed to fight, to stay strong. There was something she needed to protect, to keep safe. But then, there was nothing. That anchor, that desperate need to keep pushing through the endless nothingness - Was. Just. Gone.

But now, she feels a weight. A heaviness – not uncomfortable, but familiar. A thread, tenuous at that, that is calling, pulling her forward, out of the comforting clouds, the nothingness that she has padded herself in. Her own version of Utopia - where she doesn't need to feel anything. Because feelings hurt. People hurt. Words hurt Love…hurts.

Emotions. Who needs them, anyway? She did a pretty fine job locking everything away. When your father uses you as a tool, a machine, a soldier, it's easy to believe that is all you are. All you deserve to be.

But then, this band of misfits edged under the shield she had so carefully constructed around herself, chipping, cracking away with each joke, each tender look, each loving touch. She became part of a unit, a team, a family.

She opened up. She fell in love. For all the good that did her. Because. Feeling hurt. People hurt. Words hurt. Love…hurts.

So, she would rather stay here, in this comfortable state of nothingness, in this utopia of darkness. Simply floating.

But, something is tugging her away from this. She is irritated by this intrusion. This force that pulls her out of the darkness, through the swirling clouds of nothing and towards that she has, for so long, fought against. She doesn't want to go back. To see the disappointment in their eyes, to see the hurt and anger in his… She wants to stay right where she is, thank you very much.

From her position on her mother's chest, Xena stirs, shifts, jams her hand in her mouth, sucks loudly on her fist, frustrated she starts mewling softly. Tony continues to stare at Ziva's face. The same expression he has had since they walked into Ziva's room; his gaze never wavering. He is seemingly ignoring his daughter who is getting progressively loudly as her frustration peaks. Shaking his head, Gibbs stands, makes to pick up the now angry baby. Tony shoots his arm out: "Wait". Gibbs looks at him, his brow furrowed. Tony gestures towards Ziva. "Watch Ziva's face. Her expression. It's very slight, but it's there. Watch."

Gibbs watches, thinks that perhaps Tony's desperation has won out, wonders if Stacey can help him with this one. Then, he sees it too. A slight flicker of annoyance that ghosts across Ziva's face. The same expression he has seen on her, when Tony has been irritating her, flicking her pony tail or flipping her cap off her head. Another time, another life.

The mewling sound catches on the edges of Ziva's dormant subconscious. Continues to pull her forward even as she clutches, claws onto the darkness, the nothingness, the emptiness that falls away from beneath her as she hurtles forward.

Ziva's eyes flicker open. At Tony's nod, Gibbs lifts the now extremely angry baby onto his shoulder, soothes her, pats her gently on her bottom as she quietens, hiccups. He moves towards the doorway, to where Stacey is waiting, her arms out for the hungry baby.

Ziva darts her tongue out of her mouth, licks her dry lips, her eyes still bleary, now darken, harden. Tony leans forward as she tries to formulate the words that stumble out of her mouth, her voice raspy: "Go away," she spits out. "Why couldn't you have just left me alone. Why couldn't you just let me die? I hate you for bringing me back. I…Hate…You…"