Tony's apartment smelt musty, and dust coated the surfaces. Tony tried to remember they last time, he'd been in his apartment for longer than a couple of hours to grab something that had not yet made a home at Ziva's place. So much of his stuff now lived in Ziva's apartment. His father pretended not to notice the dust, as he stuffed Persian rice into his mouth. Senior, and his latest fiance, Linda had broken up, only a week after getting engaged. Tony's apartment was to be Senior's base for the next little while. It had been Ziva's idea to install Senior at Tony's apartment. Her argument being that it made more sense than a hotel, seeing as it was basically empty. Tony had reasoned that it would save him paying his father's bill when he flew away again, to chase his next 'business venture' or girlfriend.

"I'll tell Ziva, you liked the rice," Tony said, as he watched his father eat. Ziva had come over, and cooked for them, while Senior spilled his guts, about his latest romantic failure, before heading to the library, to give father and son space to talk. Their plans to spend the weekend together, as Tony got over a tough case, long forgotten.

"It's good," Senior said, as he cut up a piece of chicken.

"Yeah," he said, with a smile. "She's a really good cook, especially when she is supposed to be studying."

Senior smiled to himself, listening to his son talk about his girlfriend. There was so much love.

"You should marry her, Junior," Senior said, as he took a sip of water. During break-ups of past, Senior might have reached for something more exciting, but he was getting old. Too old for all of this. His heart probably couldn't handle another break, before it gave out.

"Because she can cook?" Tony asked, as he shoveled more food into his mouth. She tried to teach him how to make rice like this, during one of their lazy afternoons, but his never came out this good. There was always burnt bits at the bottom.

"No," Senior said. "But that can't help. Coming home to a warm meal, after making sure justice is served."

"She cooks for me because she likes to cook," Tony said. "I don't expect it from her. I like it when we cook together."

When they cooked together, he was very much the sous chef, to her head chef, but he enjoyed it. The accidental touches in the kitchen. That excited look on her face, when it turned out just right. It was a smile of pure pride.

"You should marry her," Senior said again. "She's a hell of a woman."

Tony shifted in his seat. He knew Senior was fond of Ziva, but he was skirting a line.

"I don't really think you should be giving me advice, about whom to marry," Tony said, trying to keep his tone neutral. Anger, and resentment seeped in, as his mouth ran faster than his thoughts. His Dad brought this out in him. They put so much water under the bridge, that sometimes little bits tried to spill over. They had to catch it all before the damn broke. "Considering your last relationship went so well."

"Maybe not," Senior said, not looking up from his plate. Tony was right, but that didn't stop the words from hurting any less. "But, I do you think you should marry her."

Tony already intended to marry Ziva. He had a five year plan, but he wanted to hear what Senior had to say, about it all.

"Why?" Tony said.

"Well, I've been saying it for years," Senior replied, with a smile. Father and son had the same methodology, when it came to lightening the room, after harsh words were spoken. "But, I really mean it now."

"Why?" Tony asked again.

"You both seem to be quite settled now," Senior said. "And happy. I don't think I've ever seen you this happy."

Senior was probably right about that.

"We are," Tony replied. "Well, I am. I think Ziva is. She seems happy right?"

Logically he knew she was. She said as much. She smiled. She smiled so goddamn much now. They both did. They were that couple.

Still, old doubts crept in.

"Yeah," Senior said. "She does. Really happy."

"Why do you keep going it?" Tony asked.

"Doing what?" came Seniors reply.

"Getting married," Tony said. "Or trying to."

"What's wrong with getting married?" Senior asked.

"Nothing," Tony said with a gulp. "It's just it never seems to end up working out for you."

"No," Senior said, moving his rice around on his plate. "But, I really thought it would this time. I thought Linda was the one, or close enough."

"Why?" Tony asked. "Why did you think she was the one?"

"Because it was like being with Catherine again," Senior said.

"Mom," Tony said. When was the last time, they had talked about her? Properly.

"Yeah," Senior said. "It's not just because Linda and Catherine were friends. I liked Linda for Linda, but sometimes when we talked it was like the last thirty-odd years just melted away. I loved her, Junior."

There was silence as the words stewed in the room. When was the last time father and son had a conversation so heavy?

"I liked her too," Tony whispered.

He had only met Linda a handful of times, since her and his father had gotten reacquainted, but he rather liked Linda. She kept Senior in line, and they were both always laughing. His Dad had seemed happier than he had been in years.

"When we were getting ready for your mother's funeral," Senior begun. His voice heavy. "You went and hid in her closet."

"Because it smelt like her," Tony said. His voice soft, as the years slipped away. Suddenly he was eight years old again, and his mother was never coming home. The sadness a familiar taste in his mouth.

He and Ziva had talked about this once, Ziva and her sister had done the same thing when their mother died, hiding under her bed sheets, inhaling her smell. Wishing for her to come back.

"Linda was the one who coaxed you out," Senior said, diverting his eyes to the window. These memories, rested heavily on him. "I was already halfway through a bottle of scotch, I hadn't even noticed you had run off."

Tony blinked a few times. Surprised at Senior's honesty.

"I had forgotten that it had been Linda, who found me," Tony admitted. In his memories, he remembered a pair of hands, and a soft feminine voice coaxing him out of the closet. When, he told the story to Ziva, he had said it was a maid who came and got him.

"Well, you didn't see her again, for a long time," Senior said. "Memories get fuzzy."

"Yeah," Tony said, with a sigh. "What was Mom's favourite band?"

Senior looked up from his food. Surprised by such a question.

"Why do you ask?" Senior asked.

"Ziva and I talked about our mothers," Tony begun. "When we were in Israel. She said her Mom was really into Abba, and she asked me what my mom liked, and I couldn't remember."

"The way Schmeil describes Ziva's Mom, you wouldn't think she'd be into pop music," Senior said.

One of the side effects, on Tony and Ziva's official relationship, was that Senior and Schmeil had met again. They formed a budding friendship, and often met up when they were in the same city.

"Yeah," Tony said. Schmeil remembered Rivka David with her poets soul, and broken heart. Ziva had gotten to see a fun side of her mother. "You know you could probably say the same about Ziva."

Ziva's music collection was vast, and full of pop songs in various languages. Tony had been exposed to much of it, when she cleaned the apartment, or drove. He liked some a few songs, but to him it was mostly fast paced gibberish. Whenever, he complained about it, she would call him a grumpy old man.

"Honestly Junior, I don't really remember what sort of music your Mom liked," Senior said, with a heavy voice. He had forgotten so much. "But, once, we were in this hotel room in Europe for business. Maybe France, or Switzerland, it would have been one of our last trips before you were born. She was all wired, you remember how she used to get."

Tony could, but only in faint memories. Most of the memories, he had of his mother, were of her sick. He latched onto any other memories, usually spoken by someone else, so desperate for other pictures of her. She had been a ghost for so long.

"Anyway, she told me she wanted to dance, it was the middle of the night, there was nowhere we could go to dance," Senior continued. "Now, back then European hotel rooms were tiny, and the walls were paper thin. So, I sang to her, and we danced. Or rather we shuffled and bumped into furniture. She laughed so loud, I really thought we'd get a noise complaint. I miss her laugh. I miss it so much."

Tony smiled, he hadn't heard this story before. Or at least, he could not recall.

"We should talk about her more," Tony said. These memories stung, but they were welcome. They needed to feel the burn.

"Yeah," Senior said, his eyes glassy. The years had slipped away "We should."

"How did you know she was the one?" Tony asked.

"I don't think I realised she was the one, until she was gone," Senior admitted. Age had given him a sense of clarity. This clarity was bittersweet. "If I'd known what I know now, I'd have been there more."

"But, you two got married fairly quickly," Tony said. He knew the facts of his parents relationship. They had met in the late spring of 1966, and were married by the time the autumn leaves blanketed central park.

"Well, in those days you didn't hang around," Senior said. "Being with your mother was never boring. She made my days so much brighter. She was the first person, I wanted to talk to in the morning, and the last person I wanted to talk to be before I went to bed."

"I feel that way about Ziva," Tony admitted. She made him want to be better. He wanted the world for her. He would try and get the moon for her, if she asked.

"I know," Senior said. "You don't need to have a detectives badge to figure that one out."

"Is it really that obvious?" Tony asked.

"When she was here, you two looked at each other, like you were the only two in the room," Senior declared. "I hope, no I know, you'll learn from my mistakes."

He'd hold Ziva close. Too close maybe. She didn't seem to resist.

"How did you know, you wanted to marry Mom?" he asked. He was waiting for Senior to shut this conversation down, but so far the conversation was free flowing.

"I had to go to Europe for the winter, for business," Senior said. "And when I had girlfriends before I'd always let us break up. I wanted your mother to come with me. I couldn't go without her."

"What about all the others?" Tony asked. He wasn't even sure he could name all of his former stepmothers.

"Different reasons," Senior said, shrugging. "I was lonely for a long time, and I wanted companionship. A few of them had business connections. Mostly, I wanted to try and find, what I had with your mother, with someone else. I never came really wasn't fair to any of them."

"No," Tony said.

"You were engaged before," Senior said, bringing up something that had happened during the longest period of estrangement father and son had. Something Senior had only found out about a few years ago, when Tony mentioned an invite to the woman's Christmas party. "What made you want to propose to that girl?"

"Wendy, wasn't a girl," Tony said, with a half smile. It was over a decade ago. It felt like longer. He had been such a boy, when he got down on one knee for Wendy. "She was a few years older than me, and she dropped hints until I finally got it. I'm not sure if I really wanted it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. In the end she chickened out, and pulled a Runaway Bride."

"That's how I ended up marrying Laura," Senior said, trying to lighten the mood. They both remembered a rather short-lived marriage of Seniors. That stepmother had not been one of Tony's favourites. "We all know how that ended."

Father and son laughed.

"I want to marry, Ziva," Tony said, as the laughter died away.

"I know," Senior said. "I always thought you two would do things out of order though."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"I always thought you two would end up with a kid first," Senior said. "You just never seemed very traditional. Especially, with the whole working together thing."

"We weren't together when we worked together," Tony said.

This was something he was always having to clarify.

"There was something," Senior declared. "Between you two. It probably would have happened eventually, even if she hadn't decided on a change of careers."

He was also looking at a change of career of his own getting on a slower track. So he could balance the two cups. He wouldn't tell his Dad just yet. Everything was so tentative. He and Ziva were going to spend the weekend talking about things, but Senior had dropped in.

"Believe it or not, Ziva's a traditional girl," Tony said. "She wants the whole shebang, the chuppah, and the Rabbi."

They had talked about it once, as Tony introduced Ziva to The Wedding Singer. He had started whining about how expensive and pointless most of the wedding crap was. Ziva admitted she wanted a celebration, even though there would be lots of empty seats. We should celebrate, even when so much has been lost, she had said sounding like Schmeil.

"It'll be a hell of a party," Senior said. His eyes lighting up.

"Small guest list, though," Tony said.

He made a mental list of people he would want to invite to this at the moment hypothetical wedding, and came up with less than twenty. Almost all of them would be on Ziva's list too.

"You don't need lots of people to have a good party," Senior declared. "Not when there are DiNozzo's involved."

"No," Tony said with a smile.

"So, when are you thinking of getting down on one knee?" Senior asked.

"Soon," Tony said.

He'd been thinking about it on-and-off for a while. Maybe, during their trip to Italy. Or during the dinner he had booked for their anniversary at the end of May. Maybe he could take her on a weekend away, both of the trips they'd booked in the past few months had not been taken. The first lost to a case during the Valentine's Day weekend. The second given to Jimmy and Breena who more than needed it.

"How soon?" Senior asked. "You two have been together a year already. Officially anyway."

"Eleven months," Tony clarified. Eleven months, and they hadn't killed each other yet, or caused great hurt. Things were looking good. "I have a plan. A five year plan."

"A five year plan?" Senior asked. His son had never really been much of a planner.

"You know, first comes love, then comes marriage," Tony said. "Then comes the baby carriage."

"You two want to have kids," Senior said, voice starting to crack.

He looked at his son. Would being a grandfather, give him a chance to correct some of the mistakes he'd made as parent? Would Tony let him be a part of said grandchilds life?

"Yeah," Tony said. A soft smile on his face. "Once Ziva's finished her degree, we're gonna look into that."

Senior had dropped hints about wanting grandchildren, but as his son aged, he come terms with the fact kids were not in his sons future. On dark nights, when regrets and remunerations spoiled his sleep, Senior wondered if he had had something to do with Tony, still being so unsettled in his fifth decade.

"Are you going to wait until she's finished her degree to pop the question?" Senior asked.

"No," Tony said. "I've been looking at rings online. I haven't found the right one yet. It needs to be perfect. Ziva deserves an amazing ring."

Senior smiled for a moment. He had proposed many times, but the only time he really had fretted about it, had been with Catherine.

"Get me my bag," Senior declared. Tony did as he was told, and collected Senior's bag, with his eyebrows raised high in suspicion. What was his Dad up to? He was always up to something.

Senior sat the bag on his lap, and rifled through it. Placing various items on the table. Tony's eyebrows, just about reached his hairline, when Senior pulled out pair of fluffy handcuffs. After much searching Senior produced a small ring box.

"Dad," Tony said, "No offence, but I don't want a hand me down ring."

"You'll want this one, Junior," Senior said. "Trust me."

"I don't want the ring you used to propose to Linda with," Tony said. "Or any of the others."

Tony was not a superstitious man, but did not want to start his married life, with his fathers sloppy seconds.

"This isn't that," Senior declared. "But it has been used before. Open it."

Tony did. He studied the ring, and felt his mouth drop open. Recognition was instant. He could remember laying next to his mother, as the destroyer cells inside of her multiplied, watching the diamond of the ring shine in the light.

"This was Moms," Tony said.

"Yeah," Senior replied. "It was only ever hers, too."

"I thought you sold this," Tony said, as he studied the ring. It was a simple design, that felt classic. The diamonds still shone. Hadn't Ziva told him never doubt an Israeli on diamonds. "When times were tough."

Senior swallowed thickly. There had been so many tough times.

"There were a few times, where I came close," Senior admitted. Shame filling him up, and making his chest hurt. "Never could do it, though."

"I'm glad you didn't," Tony admitted, as he took the ring into his hands, picturing it on Ziva's finger. Picturing her smile, as she accepted it. Would she accept it?

"Your mother always wanted you to have it," Senior said. "I really think she would have liked Ziva."

"I do too," Tony said. He and Ziva had once talked about it. They talked about so much. He never wanted that to stop.

"So, you'll take it?" Senior asked a redundant question.

"If you'll let me have it," Tony replied, as he held it up to light.

A thousand memories overcame both father and son. Senior could probably remember the happy moments, but Tony could also remember the sad ones. His mother so thin, as the disease attacked her body. So thin that her rings fell off.

"I've been saving it for you," Senior declared. "And the right woman of course."

"Ziva's definitely the right woman," Tony declared, as he put the ring back in the box, and patted the soft velvet.

"So, when are you going to propose?" Senior asked.

"I dunno," Tony admitted. "I want it to be special. Ziva deserves one of those proposals that she can tell all her friends about."

One that she could tell their kids and grandkids about.

"Why not do it, in front of all of her friends?" Senior asked.

Tony shook his head, as soon as the idea fell from Senior's mouth.

"She had a public proposal once before," Tony said. "She said she didn't like it. She'd like something more intimate."

"I'm not surprised that a catch like Ziva, has been engaged before," Senior mused to himself. His aging brain sometimes mixed up thoughts, and what was spoken.

"She wasn't," Tony said quickly. "She never said yes. It didn't end well."

She'd come awfully close. She had started to picture a life as Mrs Cruz. How, it had broken his heart to see. He'd wanted her to be happy. And, a part of himself that he was not ready to bring out from hiding, wanted her to be happy with him.

"Do you think, she'll say yes this time?" Senior asked. To him.

"I hope so," Tony said, as he slid the ring into his pocket. "I really do."

A thousand doubts crept over, prickling into his skin. What if she said no? What would he do? What if a too-soon proposal ruined everything? Things were going so well. Maybe, he should hold off on this proposal.

He reached out and gripped the table, hoping to centre himself, as the panic ebbed away.

"Listen son," Senior said, his voice firm. It seemed had caught on to the swimming thoughts in Tony's head, and how they were biting at him. "I know I'm not good at marriage, but I've planned a few spectacular proposals in my time. If you want, I can help."

He didn't really have many people to turn to for advice. McGee was still McUnmarried. Ellie wasn't close enough, and with the marital woes she had discussed with him a few weeks ago, he didn't want to rub salt in the wounds. Palmer, might enjoy the distraction, but was a little out-there in terms of ideas. Ziva definitely would not want a flash mob proposal. It would just be plain weird to ask Gibbs, who also had done a few of these.

"I'd like that, Dad," Tony said, as Ziva's key unlocked the door.

There she was. Her laptop bag hanging off her shoulder. Her pulled back in a messy ponytail. A tray with coffee cups in her hands. He got up to greet her, and take the cups from her.

He smiled. She smiled. The cups found a place on the kitchen counter. He placed a kiss on her cheek.

God, he was glad to see her.

A/N: I don't own a thing.

It was never established what Tony's mother's name was, so I went with Catherine.

Also *spoiler* the proposal is not in the next couple of chapters, but the next chapter will feature Ziva.

Thanks for all the love. Especially the guest reviews, which I wish I could reply to. And to my frequent fliers Sue and Fred, hi!

Thanks for being so patient, with updates. The move went well, but my goodness there was so much to do. So much.