Tony stepped out from the garage, with his backpack hanging off his shoulder, and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He heard the tired buzz of the garage door, as it went down. Glad, it was closing on the mess that was their garage. It had been eight months since he and Ziva had moved into the house, from her tiny apartment, and in that time they had filled the house with so much crap. Most of the stuff, was for the renovations that they were working through on their nights and weekends. Ziva the lifelong apartment dweller of the two of them, had been better at getting rid of stuff, once it served its purpose. He on the other hand, tended to hoard the stuff in the dozens of closets in the house.

He stood on the path leading to the porch for a moment. Soaking in the early evening sun. It was May, and Spring had finally sprung, after a chilly April. It was Friday evening, and he had the whole weekend ahead of him. He was looking forward to it. The week had felt long, with people from the FLETC in Georgia visiting for a conference on curriculum colbaration. Tony ran his hand over his face. He was so tired.

He looked at the lawn, the blades of grass were reaching toward the sky. He really needed to the mow the damn lawn. He had been putting it off for weeks now.

He really should mow the damn lawn.

"There you are?" Ziva said as she appeared from the end of the rested a washing basket on her hip, filled with clean sheets. The warmer weather meant that she hung the laundry outside, because the heat from the dryer warmed their old house. "Hi."

"Hi," Tony said, as he handed her a bottle of wine, placing it on top of the laundry.

He also produced a bunch of flowers from behind him, and placed them on top of the laundry.

"Who are these for?" she asked, as she moved closer. He caught a whiff of the coconut moisturizer she had started using.

He studied her. Her hair pulled back in a messy bun. Baggy t-shirt over activewear leggings. Home clothes because she was home. They were home.

"You," he announced. Had she forgotten the previous days good news. She had been so excited when she called him. "To celebrate."

Ziva had spent the last semester on the job hunt, while also completing her degree. She had sat her last exams a few weeks before, and was set to graduate in the first week of June. It was one of the later graduations of colleges in the state. Schmeil was coming for the graduation, and Tony was trying to organise a dinner for the three of them. Ziva had gotten the third job she had applied for. There was so much to celebrate.

There was so much joy.

"Congratulations on the job," he said, as he leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. The job was at an independent non-profit, called the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre, and known as ASRC. Ziva's job was a hybrid, part assisting with translations and group English classes, and part helping new immigrants wade through government bureaucracy. She was excited to finally use her degree to help others. "I knew you would be snapped up before you knew it."

She flinched away from the kiss. Then looked down at the basket, with wide eyes. Something was up.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, as he took her hand. They stood on the path in front of the porch.

He waited for her to say, that everything was fine. I am fine, was her default response, ingrained into her after years where everything was not fine. Instead she shook her head.

"I got my period this morning," she said, her voice cracking with sadness.

Tony felt his heart sink. Another month. Another disappointment.

"Well, at least you can drink the wine," slipped from his mouth before he could stop it.

He watched as a spurt of anger ran through her. She looked up at him. Eyes squinted. Mouth slightly open. She was holding back harsh words.

"Sorry," he whispered, trying to put grenade back in. "I shouldn't have said that. I just didn't know what else to say."

She seemed soothed, and started to walk up the path, to the back porch to get back. She walked up the steps into the house. The basket resting on her hip. The wine and flowers bouncing on their bed of white sheets and blue towels.

He clambered to chase her. She was in such a rush. The flyscreen slammed in his face. For a moment he debated sitting on the deck, to allow her a moment to calm down.

"You know I didn't mean it," he said, as he opened the flyscreen door, and walked through. "I know that this has been hard."

She stood in the threshold of the house and the porch. Leaning on the door frame.

"I know you were trying to make it better," Ziva said. Her voice soft. Forgiving. "I know you want to make me feel better."

Eight years of partnership, two years of dating, and eight months of marriage, she had hit the nail on the head.

He wanted to make it better for her.

"Yeah," he said, as he followed her through the threshold. He closed the sliding door. They had discussed turning the narrow porch into a three season sunroom, for Ziva to read in. At the moment, it sat empty except for a laundry basket and some a half empty paint pot. "I don't like it when your upset."

Ziva placed the wine and flowers on the kitchen counter. The dishwasher hummed. The kitchen smelt like baked eggs and chargrilled vegetables. She had been busy.

The basket of laundry got dumped on one of the spare dining chairs. They had a dining set which could technically seat eight, but usually only sat them two. This house, even though it was smaller than average felt glacial. They were trying to desperately to fill it with life. And with love.

"I thought this month," Ziva started. Her lip quivering as she spoke. "My period was late. It was only a few days, but I started to wonder. I was looking for the other symptoms."

His heart crumpled. She had spent ages in the bathroom the night before, and now he started to wonder if she had been looking for other signs.

Early pregnancy symptoms are often mistaken for symptoms of an impending period, he had read on a leaflet Ziva had brought home from the doctor, once they had officially started trying. The leaflet, had not talked about the inverse.

"Oh," he said softly.

"It was probably just stress of the end of the semester," she murmured, as she took a seat with a grimace. Tony noticed, the bottle of over-the-counter painkillers sat on the table. Ziva had been off birth control since the wedding, and Tony had learnt that her unregulated cycle wreaked havoc on her body. There were headaches, cramps, and acne. There were also mood swings. "I feel so silly, like I was trying to wish it into existence. If only it was that simple."

It only it was.

He sat down in front of her. Their knees knocked. He placed his hand on her thigh.

"You're not silly," he said.

She had been hopeful. They had both been so hopeful.

"I am going to talk to Breena," Ziva said softly. "She is trying to get back in shape. She wants to go for a walk. I could ask her then."

Breena had the name of a fertility doctor, the one that Breena and Jimmy had used, and had resulted in Tori. He knew the road Ziva was heading down. It felt so clinical. He knew Ziva had been thinking about asking Breena for a while. He had seen the google search suggestions, when he borrowed her tablet to look up movie times.

"We've only been trying since January," he said, thinking of those leaflets again. Infertility is defined as no pregnancy after twelve months of unprotected sex, or consecutive miscarriages. "That's not even been six months."

They should still be in the fun part of trying.

"Technically, it has been longer than that," she replied.

Ziva had gone of birth control before their September wedding, but neither of them held visions of a honeymoon baby. For three easy months, they clumsily fell into bed, without much planning. Reveling in newlywed bliss, and christening most rooms in the house as they renovated them. In January, the 'trying' had kicked into full gear, Ziva marked preferred days, and measured temperatures. Sex was starting to become a chore.

"Still," he uttered. "Not a full year."

Ziva swallowed thickly. The facts did not change the sting of the disappointment.

"Last time it happened by accident," Ziva murmured. She had moved her face slightly, looking out toward the backyard. The lawn really needed mowing, Tony thought, as old feelings resurface. An ache in his chest. Sadness washed over him.

The wound was healed, but the scar was still sensitive. Maybe it always would be. Aching every so often.

Tony nodded. If that pregnancy had stuck, they would have a one year old by now. A child who would have been a couple of months younger than Baby autopsy gremlin.

Would it have been a boy or a girl? A colicky baby or a happy one?

He patted her thigh, and thought of the condoms that were tucked away in the guest bathroom. Maybe, they needed a break. Just a little break. A moment to breathe.

"I am sorry," she whispered. Holding her nose with her thumb and forefinger. He knew this look, she wanted to cry. She was trying to hold it back. Hold it in.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked. They were facing each other. Her eyes were bulging.

She look a long breath in and out. Inhale and exhale.

"For reacting like this," Ziva whispered. She bit her lip. "I was told this would be a difficult road. I should be more patient, but every month it just feels worse. Like it is not going to happen."

He leaned forward slightly. Pulling her closer.

"You've never been patient," Tony said, with a slight laugh.

She let out a half laugh. Her eyes were glassy.

"I am sorry it did not happen this month," Ziva said. Her lip quivering.

"Me too," he said softly. "But think about it, who wants to have a winter baby. Remember how paranoid Jimmy was about Tori getting sick when she was just born. Plus, we'd have to spend a ton of birthday parties. At least with a summer baby you can just send the kids into the backyard and call it a party."

Ziva nodded. A tear fell down her face.

"I just want an answer," Ziva said. Defeat creeping into her voice. "I want to know if it is going to happen. I want to know how long it will take. I do not think I can face this again. For a moment there, I was really excited."

He remembered the aftermath of the miscarriage. Nearly two years ago. All those worries voiced as they tried to heal. What if I never fall pregnant again? What if the miscarriages keep happening? What if I cannot give you the child, you so desperately want?

What if you leave? That one was never voiced, but Tony heard it all the same.

"Even if we went to a doctor, they wouldn't be able to tell us that," he said softly. Bringing her back to reality. Gently.

"They would give us numbers," she replied. Voice firm. "We would know our chances. I want to be prepared."

Ziva always liked to be prepared for whatever battle she faced. And, Ziva always fought her battles.

"I know," he said softly, as he reached up to wipe the tear that fell down her face. "Let's give it until September, if nothing's happening by then, we'll go to the doctor."

Their wedding anniversary. Technically, a year since they had stopped trying to prevent pregnancy.

She nodded.

"Or, if you want to take a break," he started. Thinking again of the dust covered condom box under the sink. "We can do that too. Whatever you need."

"No," she said. Shaking her head dramatically. "I will try to be less militant about it. This part should be fun, right?"

It had been fun at first. Each month, he had hoped it had worked. Hoped that they would make a baby from their love.

"You're not militant," he said, with a soft voice. "You're directed. You always go after what you want. I love that about you."

She looked down at her lap.

"This will happen for us," he said. Willing it to the universe. "It might happen in a way that's a little different from normal, but that's always been us hasn't, taking the less beaten track. How long did it take us to get together, again?"

She let out a laugh. A full laugh. Her hair bounced. The sun was visible from the sky, after the rain.

"I am trying not to lose the joy," she declared. "It has been hard."

He nodded. This was not the first time, her period had caused angst. He knew the signs. Ziva seemed to retreat within herself, and was resistant to touch. Turning all of her disappointment inward. But, this unwanted period, had caused the worst angst.

"I know," he said.

He had noticed how quiet she had gotten over the past couple of months. She turned inward. Imploding. He had put it down to the stress of the end of her degree. Maybe, it was more than that.

The old ghosts, always did seem to resurface in the summer.

"I know I should be happy," Ziva said softly. "I have finally finished my degree, I got a job so quickly, and Schmei is coming to visit, but this is hard, like walking through cement."

She was stuck. Treading water, when she should be speeding through the water.

"I know you're trying really hard," he said. Rubbing her back. "Why don't we take it easy this weekend? I can go get some take-out. We'll watch movies. Maybe, go for one of those mega hikes that you call a short stroll, if the weather's nice. Whatever you want."

Whatever she needed. He wanted to look after her.

"I cooked," she announced."I needed a distraction this afternoon."

He nodded. He was facing away from the kitchen, so was blind to the crockpot in the corner, and the pot simmering on the stove.

"Okay," he said. Honestly, her cooking sounded better than the mediocre Chinese place that was the closet takeout to them.

"I wanted to cook," Ziva uttered.

It was an offering to the gods of fertility. Showing them that she could make something from raw ingredients. It was also an offering to him presenting him with something because she could not give him a baby.

"I love your cooking," he said. "You've even convinced me that eggplant can taste good."

I love you, he was saying. He could say it a thousand different ways. He wanted to say it forever. He would say it, until he could not talk anymore.

She smiled. A half smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Your father will be here soon," she said, as she started to move from the table. Needing to get moving. Ziva was not one to wallow.

"Why?" he asked, before remembering the day of the week.

The sun was starting to set. A deadline they could not escape.

It was Friday. Since, Tony had gotten a job that kept bankers hours, and they had moved out into the suburbs, the weekly meal shared with Senior had moved from Sunday afternoon to Friday evening. It had become a bastardised Shabbat, with the three of them. A Jew and two gentiles. Both father and son knew enough to avoid a serious faux pas.

"It's Friday," Ziva said softly. "He always comes over on a Friday."

Sometimes Ziva lit the candles, but the prayers were silent. Sometimes, Senior stayed for a movie, and if he had too much wine they would put him up in the guest room. Whether he went home on Friday or Saturday, he always went home with leftovers. Tony enjoyed the routine of it all. He and his Dad had gotten closer too, which was a welcome development.

"Okay," he said, as they both stayed at the table. Neither wanting to move. Holding on for just a moment longer.

A/N:

I don't own a thing.

This is the sequel to "Scenes of A Life, Built Together". It focuses on Tony and Ziva and their journey to parenthood. As you will remember from the epilogue of that beast, the journey does end happily. However, like all journeys it has some difficult moments. It's probably best that you read Scenes if you have not already, but not necessarily "To Be By Your Side".

This is going to focus on Tony and Ziva. The other characters will be featured, with more significant roles for Senior and McGee. Other characters will get mentions, but I'm not sure if they'll get scenes.

I plan to have about thirty chapters, with the fic spanning about a year and a half, with various plot points with Tony and Ziva on the road to parenthood. For reference, this chapter is set late May 2016. This fic, like its prequel ignores most of the post S10 cannon. We still have Tori Palmer, Delilah and Ellie, but they'll be no McTwins. I haven't watched an episode since 'Past, Present, Future', and have not enjoyed an episode since 'Berlin'.

I write my interpretation of Ziva, a bit more Jewishly than they did in the show. However, I am not Jewish or religious. So, if I get something wrong, please let me know, and accept my apologies. I do research, but sometimes things can be misunderstood.

In the early fics of this series, Ziva did go to therapy. Hence her being more open. I worry about keeping her in character, so do let me know if you think she's veering to out of character. I will always defend Ziva, and her ability to love. She had so many reasons not to love, but chose to anyway.

Also, first chapter is a bit info dumpy, things get less info dumpy as we go on. The fic will have some angst, but also some happy moments, I promise.

I'm hoping to update every one to two weeks. I have some chapters sort of sketched out in advance. I'm hoping to finish this within the calendar year.

Thanking you in advance for any reviews for this fic, and apologies that the authors note is nearly as long as the chapter.