Tony smiled, when his Dad appeared in the doorway the screened porch, with a smirk on his face. Tony's arms, back and shoulders ached carrying the groceies he had set out early to collect. A loaded canvas shopping bag pulled on an old shoulder injury.

Real men only made one trip. Real men, in yuppie Northern Virginia also used reusable bags.

"You were out early," Senior said, as he took three bags from Tony. Lightening his load, like family was supposed to.

They were finally becoming that kind of family.

"Still on Israeli time," Tony declared, as they traipsed through the house. Depositing the bags on the kitchen counter. Quickly filling up the once clear counter.

He and Ziva had landed back in DC, late the previous evening. Senior had been waiting for them, with open arms. For which Tony was grateful. The two flights, and the three hour layover in Boston, had exhausted him. He had not wanted to worry about driving home.

"Ziva's still asleep," Senior announced.

Tony had inisited Senior stay their guest room, because by the time they got from Dulles to deepest darkest suburbia on a Friday night, it was too late for Senior to drive home. Besides, the guest bed was already made up, as Senior had been checking in on the house, while they were away.

"She's always been better at adjusting to time zones," Tony replied.

He checked the time on the clock on the oven, it was mid morning. Much later, than Ziva usually slept.

Senior picked up his coffee from the dining room tale. He was drinking from the orange coloured mug that he always ended up with, when he visited.

Tony stared at the bags of groceries, and felt a tiredness creep through him.

He may have gone overboard in the grocery store. His hunter gather instinct had gone into overdrive, since they had discovered Ziva was pregnant.

Senior took a sip of his coffee.

"She fell right asleep in the car," Senior said.

Ziva had alternated been sleeping, and looking like she was about to throw up, during the two flight odyssey it had taken them to get home. She had been miserable, even with the extra leg room from their business class seats.

When they got through customs, and into Senior's car, Ziva had fallen asleep as soon as the car started to moving. It was not a deep sleep, but a doze, which made her jolt whenever the car went over speed bumps, or turned too quickly. Tony had been to busy, looking after Ziva to really talk to his father.

"She was pretty tired," Tony replied, as he turned the coffee machine on again. The jetlag was about to hit. Hard. "It's been a long few weeks."

For both of them.

Tony had never been so close to such a prolonged death. Not as an adult.

Still, he could not deny how peaceful Schmeil had looked in the moments before.

"Of course," Senior said. The coffee machine beeped.

Tony grabbed a coffee mug from the cupboard, and poured a cup for himself. He held up the coffee jug, offering Senior another cup. Senior shook his head.

"How was it?" Senior asked.

Tony took a sip of his coffee. It did its job. He felt the jolt of energy. It was probably a placebo effect but Tony did not care.

"Israel?" Tony asked, feeling snark seep into his voice. "Or watching Schmeil die?"

Tony watch as his father averted his eyes. Tony was used to radical honesty with Ziva, a relationship that had slowly pulled developed as they started to claw at the walls, the others put up. With Senior, things were still a little tentative. There were still things that they did not talk about.

The past was not fully past. It had left some scars, which while healed, left sensitive scar tissue.

"Both, I guess," Senior murmured, talking to the groceries on the kitchen counter. "It's okay, Junior, I thought you might wanna talk. I know we don't really talk about things."

Tony felt a kick in his gut.

"It was hard, Dad," Tony said, as he moved around the kitchen, so father and son stood closer. Closing the gap. "I mean, half the time I felt like I was an extra in the corner. Schmeil and Ziva had a lot of history, and memories. It was hard to watch knowing what Ziva was about to lose.."

Tony's Dad slowly looked up. Father and son stood face to face.

"She spent so long focused on him," Tony said, his voice cracking. "I worry that she's not really processed things yet. Like she knows he's dead, and has kinda gone through some of stages of grief, but I know she's gonna be sad for a while. She kinda shuts down when she gets sad."

Ziva had a tendency to shut him, and everyone else out when she got too sad, and that was what killed him. Watching her suffer, and not being able to fix it.

"What about you, Junior?" Senior asked.

Tony felt a warmth. His Dad was listening to him. His Dad cared. Eight year old Tony DiNozzo had always wanted his Dad to care.

"I'm fine, Dad," Tony replied, looking toward the window, at the garden. "I mean I'm sad that Schmeil's died. I'm sad that-"

Tony stopped mid sentence. The baby was still a secret. Things were still so early. So much could go wrong, and Ziva was worrying for both of them.

He had become obnoxiously optimistic in the face of her fear, if only to balance her out. To show the universe that this baby was wanted.

"You're sad that?" Senior asked, picking up the dropped sentence.

"I'm sad that Ziva's sad," Tony said too quickly. "I mean sad doesn't really cover it. He was her Schmeil. He was the closest thing to a biological family she had left. He had known her since she was three. In losing him, she has lost a lot."

Senior swallowed thickly.

"I still don't know how to really support her," Tony continued.

He started to move back into the kitchen. Remembering that there were preshibles in the grocery bags. The conversation was getting too heavy. He needed to move, to shake off this heaviness.

Senior, perhaps also needing a distraction started to root through the shopping bags, pulling out items and lining them up on the counter.

"Ziva's lost a lot of people," Tony said softly.

Most of those losses had been before Tony had known her. The loss of her father, had been when he had known her, but they had not been together then. He did not know how to support her.

You are not alone, he had promised her. Then and now. Things were different now.

"I know," Senior said softly. "And, I know you want to help her. You have always wanted to make things better for people."

Tony started picked up the groceries Senior had taken out of the bags. He opened the door on the pantry, and noted it was still rather full. He should have checked everything before he went out.

"Through good times and bad, right?" Tony said.

He looked to the counter and noticed the perishables. He opened the freezer, and threw another packet of frozen peas into the drawer. Another thing they had not needed.

He really should have made a list.

"I never did get that part right," Senior replied, lightening the mood by talking about his more than half a dozen failed marriages.

Tony stuffed the canvas bag into another empty canvas bag.

"I'm sure you tried," Tony said.

"I didn't," Senior replied. "But, I'm learning now. Guess, an old dog can learn new tricks."

Tony grabbed a bag stuffed with vegetables and moved toward the fridge. He opened the fridge, and was surprised to see it both clean and empty. Then he remembered, that during the two weeks he and Ziva were apart, he had cleaned it out. He had done so many chores out of boredom, desperate for a distraction in the huge empty house.

"I thought the actual dying part, would be different," Tony said after a few quiet moments.

He opened the crisper drawer, and placed the cucumbers, and tomatoes into the drawer. Ziva had a whole system of meal planning, which meant that they seldom wasted vegetables. Tony had been winging it when he walked around the supermarket, on the busy Saturday. Watching, as parents tried to placate their bored children during the shop. Tony had watched the scene with a smile on face.

That would be them, one day. One day soon.

"I mean, I've seen a lot of death," Tony said.

He had been a cop for nearly a decade, then a federal agent for fifteen years. Toward the end of his career, seeing a dead body had become pretty much a weekly occurrence. He had seen people taken far too young. People who had gotten caught up in the wrong thing, or in the crossfire, and people who died heroically defending the greater good.

His Dad stayed quiet. Moving the items from the bags to the kitchen counter. He had found the boxes of crackers, and looked them up and down.

Tony had brought dozens of boxes. Ziva's misnamed morning sickness was still in the manageable stages, but Tony wondered what was to come. Ziva had become pretty averse to anything that was not beige, and did not come in a packet.

"But, this time it was kinda peaceful," Tony said, his voice softening. "Every other death I've seen has been violent, but Schmeil was at peace with what was happening. It was his time, and he had accepted that."

Tony slid the milk into the shelf in the fridge door.

"It was kinda like he went to sleep," Tony said.

He had called Ducky a few times, not caring about the cost of international roaming. During his long afternoon walks, through Schmeil's retirement community. Ducky had explained what was to come in terms of physical reactions, and talked about the philosophy of death.

Senior coughed slightly.

"That's the ideal isn't it?" Senior said. "To go peacefully, after you've lived a great life."

Tony nodded. He had never really allowed himself to picture his own death.

During his years as a cop, and later an agent he had always imagine he would go down fighting. Defending the greater good, or saving someone. He had only thought about it in earnest when he had come within moments of death. There had been so many times where death had swooped close, nearly getting him.

He and Ziva had talked about their own deaths only a couple of times. When they had redone their wills because of their changed jobs and impending nuptials, the conversation had been brief, and slightly awkward. They had come to a few conclusions; neither of them wanted to be kept alive by machines, Ziva wanted a Jewish funeral, and Tony wanted someone to play Sinatra's My Way at his funeral. All had been agreed upon, and they had never spoken of death again.

They hoped death would not come for a long time.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Guess so."

He stuffed another bag into the master bag of canvas bags. The counter almost completely clear.

"When it's my time," Senior started. "I want that. To die peacefully, not being kept alive by machines. To have said goodbye to all the important people."

Tony felt a gnawing feeling in his gut. He couldn't take another loss. The black suit he had worn to the funeral had been too tight. He needed more time, before it got another outing.

"You're okay, right?" Tony asked. "Like healthwise."

Senior nodded.

"Healthy as a horse," Senior replied. "Doctor had to double check my date of birth, at my last physical."

Tony had received a pamphlet about losing weight, and drinking less, at his last physical. Especially, when he mentioned to his doctor that he and Ziva were looking to start a family.

"Do you think Mom had a peaceful death?" Tony asked, again after a few moments of quiet.

He watched as Senior averted his eyes flitting around the room, before looking out to the garden. A few years ago, the conversation would have never have gotten this far, and even now the conversation was still a rocky road.

"I hope so," Senior said. His voice cracking. "I know she wanted it to be. I didn't really advocate for her. I didn't know how. I do know that they gave her a lot of drugs in the end, she wouldn't have been in pain."

Tony stood quietly for a second. Taking in his father's words.

"I remember watching Angels with Dirty Faces with her," Tony said, his mouth dry. "She was really tired. A nurse came in. She turned off the monitor by her bed, and I begged her not to turn of the tv. She promised she wouldn't. Then both Mom and I went to sleep, but she didn't wake up."

Senior swallowed thickly. His face heavy, and eyes glassy. He looked older than his age.

"The nurse had figured out what was about to happen," Senior said. His glassy eyes bulging. "That's why they turned off the monitor by her bed, so the beeping didn't freak you out."

Tony nodded. Kicking himself for not realising that earlier. How many times had he replayed the memories in his head.

"You were there?" Tony asked.

Every time he went over this scene, he never remembered his father. Just the nurse, whose face he could never quite picture, and the film.

"I was in the hallway, with a bottle of scotch," Senior said. Shame all of her face, personified by red cheeks. "I thought we had longer, but the disease moved quickly. The didn't have the same medicine back then. I wasn't ready."

Tony felt a sickly feeling rush through him. He was eight years old again, waking up in a dark room. His mother still warm, but not responsive. A nurse rushing into his room as he started to cry out. It had been the nurse, who picked him up from the bed, and wrapped her arms around him.

The nurses hug had been warm, but she had not been the comfort he wanted.

"I should have been," Senior said softly. "It wasn't about me."

"No," Tony said. "It wasn't."

Father and son were quiet. Tony put all the boxes of crackers in the pantry. Senior started to move around the dining nook. Picking up his cellphone, and his wallet. He was about to go.

The conversation had gotten to close to the bone.

"I'm gonna make some eggs for breakfast," Tony declared.

He wanted to keep Senior in the house. Their conversation had hit a roadblock, but they could move through it.

"I'm not that hungry," Senior replied. Tony could see the lie on his face.

"I know it's closer to lunch time," Tony replied. "But, maybe if I start cooking Ziva will wake up.. Anyway, you looked after the house, and played taxi driver, I owe you more than breakfast."

Senior raised his eyebrows.

"You don't owe me a thing, it's what families do" Senior replied, using the line that Tony had used when Senior moved into Tony's apartment. "Ziva seems pretty tired."

Tony nodded.

"She is," Tony replied. "Omelette okay?"

Tony started collecting the ingredients and utensils to make breakfast, darting around the kitchen, and opening cupboards.

Since, they moved into the house the kitchen had been Ziva's domain. Not because of gender roles, but because Ziva liked to cook. She tended to do the weekday cooking, and the two of them would make time to cook together during the weekend. Judging by Ziva's recent food aversions, which had made meal service on the plane a nightmare, he would be spending a lot more time in the kitchen.

"I gotta ask Junior, what's with all the crackers?" Senior asked. "I didn't see any cheese."

"They were on sale," Tony said with a shrug. Trying to come off casual. He wanted to tell Senior so badly, but it was still so early.

"You're not supposed to go to the store hungry," Senior said.

"I know that now," Tony replied.

Tony finally found the pan, and took it out of the cupboard. He placed it on the cook top, and looked for the cooking oil.

"Before you get started," Senior said, pulling out his phone. "I want to show you this."

Tony left the pan on the cooktop, and walked across the kitchen to his Dad.

His Dad pulled up details of a winery, beer, and whiskey tour in Virginia, not that far from where Tony and Ziva had gotten married. It was beautiful up there.

"I got you this for your birthday," Senior said, with a smile. "It was one of those internet coupons, for the second weekend of August."

Tony's mouth felt dry. The DiNozzo men were not big gift givers.

"Dad, that must have been really expensive," Tony declared. He looked at the webpage, and tried to estimate the price of the tour. It would have been a lot of money for someone on social security.

"I had the money," Senior replied. "It's for two, so you and Ziva could go. One of the places on the tour has a bed and breakfast, so you two could make a weekend of it. I figured you two need a weekend away"

Tony kept a smile on his face, but thought about what Ziva would do, while he sampled some of Northern Virginia's finest artisan wine, beer and spirits. Usually, this type of gift would be perfect for them, the type of thing they always said they wanted to do, but never did. They tried to gift each other experiences rather than things.

In any other year, the gift would have been ideal.

"Thanks Dad," Tony said. "Maybe, the two of us can go. We could make it a father and son trip."

Senior nodded slowly. His mouth formed a half smile.

They always said they should go on more trips together.

"I'm too old for that stuff," Senior said. "You kids have fun."

Tony kept the smile plastered on. Maybe, he could take Abby, though she might ask why Ziva was not going. Maybe, he could the coupon to the McCouple for an engagement present.

"We will," Tony said.

"I'll send you the internet coupon," Senior said.

He smirked as his Dad said internet coupon. Senior was more like Ducky than Gibbs in terms of adapting to technology, but sometimes Tony had to remind himself that television was not even invented with his father was born.

"Thanks," Tony said, as he moved back into the kitchen.

He found the cooking oil, poured it in the pan, and started to fry off the eggs for the omelette.

He heard some noise coming from upstairs. The flushing of the toilet. Then some quiet, and the flushing of the toilet again.

He thought of the crackers. Maybe, he should leave Senior with breakfast, and go and check on Ziva.

"I sent the link to the bed and breakfast too," Senior said. He was squinting at his phone. Tony felt his own phone buzz in the the pocket of his pants.

"Thanks Dad," Tony said. "I'll show Ziva when she gets up."

There were some creaks from upstairs.

"She's been asleep a while," Senior said again. "Are you sure she's okay?"

Tony sighed.

"She's tired," Tony said again. "She didn't really sleep on the plane. Did I tell you we got bumped up to business class?"

The flight had been much better because of the business class, Tony had enjoyed the free drinks and extra leg room. Ziva had called in a favour, with one of Schmeil's old friends who worked at El Al to get them into business class.

"Yeah," Senior said, his voice drifting away, before perking back up. "Wait, it all makes sense now."

"What does, Dad?" Tony asked, as he put the omelette on the plate.

"Ziva's sleeping a lot, you brought all these crackers, and you don't want to take her on a winery tour," Senior listed. "Ziva's pregnant, isn't she?"

Tony let out a slight laugh. His Dad had cracked the case, before Tony had to worry about spilling the beans.

He turned off the gas on the cooktop.

"Sorry Junior, I know you two were trying," Senior continued. His voice lower, laced with sadness. It was drifting out again. "I just thought it had worked. Wishful thinking I guess."

Senior had mistaken Tony's laughter for a no.

"Dad, you're right," Tony said, a smile on his face. "We found out when we were in Israel. It's still really early. We weren't going to tell anyone yet."

Senior moved from the otherside of the kitchen, getting closer.

"But, you guessed," Tony said. "So, yeah Dad you're gonna be a Grandpa."

Senior stood in front of Junior with his arms open.

"A baby," Senior whispered. A smile had exploded on his face. His eyes were bright. "Oh, Junior."

This was joy. Pure joy.

"Yeah," Tony said, letting out a breath. "If everything happen like it's supposed to. We're gonna have a baby."

Senior's smile sat stubbornly on his face.

"A baby," Senior repeated, as he wrapped his arms around Tony.

Tony felt a warmth in his stomach. His father's excitement was infectious. Tony felt the love from his father, the love he hoped to pass onto his child.

"Are you excited?" Senior asked as he pulled apart.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Really excited. Ziva's a bit nervous. She thought that we would have to do treatments, so it was a surprise."

Senior nodded. He had been there in the aftermath of last time. Tony had been the one to tell Senior what had happened, when he arrived home from Monaco.

Dad, Ziva was pregnant, Tony had said in Ziva's tiny apartment. Was, Senior had asked before realising what Tony was saying. Then he wrapped his arms around his son. Holding him tight. Ziva had joined them not long after. The three of them had stood still in that tiny room. Sniffling.

Ziva was so convinced it was going to end up like last time.

"What good news," Senior declared. He was bouncing with joy.

"It is," Tony said as he moved back to the food.

There was creaking on the stairs, and a few minutes later Ziva appeared in the kitchen.

She was rubbing her mouth, with her bare wrist. Her hair had been pulled into a messy bun, and he face pale. It seemed that her bladder and her stomach had woken her up. She pulled her robe tighter, when she noticed Senior.

Before she could say anything Senior wrapped his arms around her.

Tony watched as her eyebrows rose, and face screwed up. Confusion. She opened her mouth, but did not say anything.

"Dad knows," Tony said, filling in the blanks. "Or rather he guessed."

Senior got off of Ziva, and she moved toward the dining table, with careful steps. She pressed her fingers over her nose. Maybe, father and son would have brunch on the deck.

"It's wonderful news," Senior said. His smile holding firm. "Really wonderful."

Tony grabbed some crackers from the pantry, and some water from the fridge. He placed them on the table. She took a careful sip of water.

"It is," Ziva replied. A huge smile on her face.

A/N:

I don't own a thing.

Thanks for all of the love. I owe so many review replies. I hope to get the next chapter up next week.

We will have a couple of chapters focusing on the early stages of pregnancy. Ziva is going to struggle for a while.

They'll tell the extended family soon.

Thanks again.