I'm sick and stuck at home and this just came to me. I don't hate Jeanne I should warn you, this is from her pov, it isn't particularly nice to her but I did try and explain some of the decisions that she makes. Thanks for reading, I hope that you enjoy it and the doctor said that reviews will help me recover faster. Pretty please?

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters.

I wonder what he'll say when he sees me. I wonder what I'll say when I see him. I feel sick with sudden nerves. I don't even know what I am going to say.

'Hello Tony, you broke my heart three years ago but here I am having moved on and pregnant and due to go to France I three weeks. Have you moved on?'

A laugh bubbles out of my mouth, people turn to look at me curiously and Mothers move their children away from the crazy woman laughing to herself.

'What would be the best way to do this?' I wonder. 'Walk up to him in the office?

No, it held to many bad memories.

Find out where he lives and talk to him there?

No, to stalkerish.

Wait for him to come down from work, yeah, that wouldn't seem too weird and if I get him in the parking lot there wouldn't be too many witnesses...'

I tuck my copper brown hair behind my ears, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. I then fold my hands over my bloated stomach, the baby kicks, the hormones are doing strange things to me.

'Yeah right, blame on the hormones Jeanne.'

You train your eyes onto the elevator, for you know that's how he'll come out.

'Shit,' you mentally berate yourself. 'He could be with other people from his work, you didn't think of that.' The baby moves restlessly from all of the adrenaline that has surged your body. You move so that you can Tony as soon as he leaves the elevator, positioning yourself behind a well placed pot plant.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the shiny elevator doors. You're wearing a crisp linen blouse with a brown, knee length skirt. A large tan-coloured coat does its best to hide your condition.

A light comes on signalling that the elevator has started its descent.

Ding.

Tony walks out as confident as you remember him being. He's wearing the same type of expensive suits, but he has lost weight since you've last seen him.

You begin to walk towards him. Then, a woman who you remember in passing as talking to Tony on that fateful night, joins him. Grudgingly you admit that she's pretty, 'in an I can kick your arse any day kind of way.'

"Tony," she calls out, her voice is full of confidence. You notice that she's limping slightly thanks to your training as a doctor.

"Hold high." 'What the hell?' You wonder. Tony only laughs, a deep, rich, genuine laugh, that reaches his eyes and makes them glow.

"It's, 'hold up,' Zee-vah," he stretches out her name as if trying to hold onto it for just that little bit longer. The woman – Ziva, makes a face.

"You and your blasted idioms," she mutters throwing up her hands theatrically.

"And you want to be an American," Tony shook his head in the same theatrical way. "You're going to have to learn American idioms," he taunts her and moves slightly closer to her so that they are touching slightly. She narrows her eyes at him, but lightly brushes her fingertips against his hand. They both relax, as if revelling in each other's presence.

"I missed you Ziva," Tony turns so that he's staring right into Ziva's eyes. Ziva, not one to back down easily, meets his gaze. That intense gaze that he used to fix on me and made me feel as if I was the only person on the planet.

"I missed you too Tony," Ziva's voice is barely above a whisper.

Jealousy strikes, I had hoped somehow that he hadn't moved on. That he still pined after me. That he hadn't yet moved on and that my words were going to make him hurt so much... Revenge.

They're having eye sex now, it's so intense that I want to look away, but something stops me. He brings up his hand so slowly and strokes away some of the hair from her face.

"You're beautiful Ziva," I can remember Tony saying that to you. 'Don't men try and mix it up with different people?' But in my heart, I know the truth.

I saw in his eyes how much he was hurting all those years ago when I left and now I'm seeing proof that he has moved on.

"Tony," she says it as a warning. 'What the hell woman?' You scream at her mentally, 'go for it, he isn't this serious very often.'

"If this is about my scars…" 'Scars?'

"Stop doubting yourself Ziva. I would love you no matter what you looked like," Ziva's eyes become glassy with tears that she'll never let fall.

"I love you Tony DiNozzo." The use of his real last name throws me a little. I'm amazed at how they're telling each other so much in a car park. I can count the number of times that Tony told me that he loved me on one hand.

Suddenly all that I want to do is leave. This is too intense from me, with them barely touching each other and becoming lost in their own little world where they can love each other for ever and ever. All that I want to do is go home to my partner, give birth to my little boy and flee to France as soon as I can. I'm only in Washington D C to see my Mother. This was always a silly idea. I don't know what possessed me to do it in the first place. They link hands and in that small gesture I realise that I've lost Tony DiNardo forever. Once they're safely out of sight I flee out onto the street.

They will never have to hear from me again.

Well…once more.

TWO WEEKS LATER:

In a small flat, that has only recently started to house two people, a man looks up to where his girlfriend announces that she's going for a shower. He offers to join her, when she offers no protest he lets a wide smile spread over his face. He tells her that he'll be two minutes. This is because a name has caught his eye by chance in the births section of the newspaper.

Jeanne Benoit and Jackson Miller are proud to announce the birth of their son.

Luke Anthony Miller.