Tony rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, swatting away the gloopy sweat that had accumulated there. He wanted this humid summer to end, or rather he wanted to have a spare moment to enjoy the warm weather, before the North East descended into polar vortex again.

He gently pushed on the door, knowing it was after midnight, and knowing Ziva who now kept bankers hours was most likely asleep. Even though she no longer had to tend to late night calls or fear for her safety, she remained a light sleeper. Perhaps she always would, so much of the trainings of her past had been undone, but some just ran too deep.

He ran his hand over his face. He wore the exhaustion of the case like an extra layer of clothing. He was sweltering under it all. Every case, felt like more weight on his shoulders. Like Atlas he carried the weight of the world.

The door opened, and Tony was greeted by the buzz and blueish light of the television. A blob was on the couch. He watched for signs of life, expecting to be greeted by a snore. Ziva was usually more disciplined at going to bed before midnight, maybe his bad habits were rubbing off.

Instead Ziva shuffled slightly on the sofa, loose curls toppling over her shoulders.

"I made a plate for you," she whispered, her eyes moving from the television to greet him.

The low-murmur of the television, played a corny low-budget advertisement. The ones that you only saw at such a late hour. Creepy men sold cars. Stay at home mothers tried to sell weird mops to get out of debt.

"Do you want me to fix you something to?" he asked making a beeline for the compact kitchen. Noticing the dishes on the draining board, promising a delicious meal.

His stomach was for the moment, his main concern, lunch had been nearly twelve hours ago, and dinner had been a too-healthy protein bar, begged from Ellie, as it turned out they had the wrong guy in interrogation. The case had been a hell of a ride, and the rides weren't as fun anymore.

"No," she said, slumping back into the couch. A throw pillow on her lap.

He stood in front of the fridge, found a can of beer he'd been hiding for a case just like this, and a plate on top of the other. He peeled back the plate, revealing some sort of eggplant dish, with a ton of vegetables. After determining dinner consisted of nothing that could kill him if not heated. His stomach growled, angrily.

His gut ached, a low ache, a storm was brewing, and Ziva was caught in it.

"You sure?" he asked, fishing out cutlery from the drawer. An extra fork in case Ziva, wanted a midnight snack.

"Water, maybe," she said, her voice distant.

He found a glass and poured some water from the bottle kept in the side of the fridge.

He carried the plate, and the drinks, in a clumsy sort of waddle. Waiting tables had not been one of the jobs he held during college.

"You know once upon a time, you didn't even own a television," Tony said, as he started the awkward dance of unloading the plate and drinks, handing the water to her.

"That was before I agreed to marry an American who loves his television more than me," Ziva said, as she took the plate from him, and he sat down, kicking his shoes off. She hated when he did that.

"Not more," he said, between greedy mouthfuls. "Maybe equally."

Ziva offered him a half smile. He had been hoping for a laugh. The seas were choppy tonight.

"This is late for you," he said, placing the plate on the table so he could open the beer.

"I wanted to wait up for you," she said, darting her eyes away from him to television.

It was playing some sort of house buying show. An eager young couple, were about to get mortgaged up to their eyeballs for a house that was way to big for them.

"I probably would have woken you up, coming home anyway," he said,spilling some tomato sauce on his shirt. "No need to wait up."

He had only sent a text about coming home a couple of hours ago, and that was before, he had gotten caught in a random breath test, heading home.

"That is true," she muttered. He watched as she swallowed thickly. "I could not sleep, and I knew you would be home soon, so I waited."

He nodded. The previous weekend, the nightmares had surface, making sleep a futile endeavor. The worst part, Tony had decided, was when Ziva woke from them, panting and scared, and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop them, and little that would help her.

"Did you have another one?" he asked.

August was the hardest month, he learnt. Something always triggered the memories in August. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe, it was the smell of cigarettes that seemed to waft through the air, from the local park. Past and present got spun together like summer salads.

"No," she said, shaking her head for emphasis, loosening curls. "I just could not sleep."

He studied her face, she had black circles around her eyes. And a heaviness. Her brain was playing the greatest trick of all, overriding her exhausted body. Frustration stirred in her, coming to the boil.

"Everything okay with school?" he asked, as he took another bite of dinner. Delicious as usual.

"Yes," Ziva said. "Everything is fine."

He suspected so. School was something she had taken to well, despite her fears that being so far removed from the classroom.

"If its the wedding planning," he begun. Wanting to fix this so bad. "Just tell me, I'll pitch in more."

She pressed her hand into the pillow on her lap. He frowned, not expecting that to be the answer.

"It is not the wedding planning so much," she admitted. Her mouth stayed frozen for a second, more thoughts forming. "I was never the girl who dreamed of a big wedding."

"I'll help more," he said, taking her hand in his. "We're doing this together."

"I have been thinking about those who will not be there," Ziva continued. He rubbed his finger on her knuckle. "I keep thinking how much of a fuss my mother would have made. She would have been flitting around, talking about place settings and guest lists. Her and Aunt Nettie would have been an unstoppable force."

He wondered what his mother would have made of all of this. He could not remember enough of her to determine if she was a big wedding kind of lady. He was envious of the fact, Ziva had that sort of knowledge of her mother, and that feeling made him feel sick.

"I also feel guilty for being relieved that I do not have a mother-in-law, who is doing all the things that I would want a mother to be doing." Ziva continued.

He coughed. Ziva's honesty stung. Still, like disinfectant on a cut, it was needed. They promised each other such bittersweet honesty.

"I am sure I would have loved your mother," she continued, her voice trying to soothe, realising the sting of her words. "Just as I love your father."

"You love my Dad," he asked, picking up the beer and taking a long swig. Sometimes, loving his Dad felt like a duty, how someone could voluntarily choose to love him, was amazing to Tony.

"Of course," she said. She had so much love to give, even after everything that was taken.

"Is it hard, with him being around so much?" he asked, wondering if she was missing Eli too. "I know your Dad wouldn't have been like Spencer Tracy or even Steve Martin in Father of the Bride, but still I know this stuff usually means something to daughters."

He tried to picture Eli David as a fumbling Dad. It would have been less Father of the Bride, and more Godfather.

"I like to think my father would have been happy for us," Ziva said softly. "I think about him sometimes. But, these last few weeks, I have been unable to shake the thought of going dress shopping with my mother. It is so silly, the two of us going dress shopping together would have ended with her in tears. We never saw eye to eye on fashion."

He sucked a deep breath in. There was no real way to make this better. The plan was for Ziva, Abby and a now less pukey Breena to go dress shopping together. Breena as she had the actual expertise in buying a wedding dress, and Abby because of her pure enthusiasm. Still, that would never change who would not be there. There would be so many empty seats at the wedding.

"These feelings will pass," she said, with a determined look on her face. "Our wedding will be wonderful."

"I know," he said, squeezing her hands tightly. "The other day, Abby and I were talking about what Kate would have made of old Tony DiNozzo finally settling down."

Ziva froze. Guilt, usually plugged up, flowed freely. Ari killed Kate, ran through her head like an unnecessary news bulletin. That guilt would never lift. It could be dulled, but never silenced. Some burdens were carried for life.

"I imagine there would be quite a few very surprised women," Ziva said, taking a leaf out of his book, and trying to diffuse the situation with a joke.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm sure most of 'em would be happy for us."

"Yes," she replied.

They settled into quiet. The advertisements stopped and the young couple from earlier were looking at a huge house, in one of the states that didn't have a real winter.

"That place is huge," he murmured, taking another swig of beer. "Ginormous."

"Yes," Ziva said.

"No, its like actually ridiculous," he uttered, as the number of square feet flashed up on the screen. The place had five bathrooms, but only four bedrooms. The McMansion had three different sitting areas, all clumped quite close together on the lower floor. It made no sense.

"Bigger is better," Ziva said. "That is how it is in America, no?"

"'Spose so," he said. Everything looked glacial compared to their apartment.

"You would not want to live in a place like that," Ziva asked.

They were idly looking at houses again, having decided to extend the apartment lease by another year, the coming October. They were also going to add Tony to the lease, so they could tag team hasling the landlord about the leaky tap in the bathroom. They had their five year plan, hoping to have a house before the babies came.

"There's no way we could ever afford a place like that," he said. "Even with your inheritance."

Her inheritance was paying for her studies. How glad she was, not to be starting her new career with hundreds and thousands of dollars in debt, like so many of her classmates.

"What sort of house would you like?" she asked.

"Modest," he admitted, oddly thinking of Gibbs little cottage. "I grew up in a big house, I remember I had a nightmare and I couldn't find my Mom. She was on the other side of the house, and couldn't hear me. I was already pretty scared, and that made it worse."

"Modest," Ziva echoed in agreement. "But not too small. Our apartment was bigger than most, and it always felt cramped. I did not like sharing a room with Tali, especially when we were teenagers."

"Yeah, I didn't like sharing rooms at boarding school," he said.

"I would like some room for a garden," she said with a smile. Thinking of the future. "I have always liked plants."

He looked across the lounge, to the massive plant sitting pride of place by the big dining nook window, Ziva tended to that thing like a child.

"Definitely," he murmured. The tiny balcony off the dining nook didn't cut it when it came to outdoor space.

"Let's focus on getting married first," Ziva said. Part of her new life, was taking things slow. She had been too fast and too furious before, and only ended up getting burnt by the fire.

"Of course," he said, as the ads played and Tony decided to get another beer. "I'm gonna get another beer, want one?"

"No," Ziva said.

"Wine?" he asked, Ziva usually preferred wine over beer. He got up from the sofa with a grunt. He was getting old.

"No," Ziva said. He walked toward the kitchen. He heard her take a heavy breath. The storm ha not passed. "I think I have anemia."

"Okay," he said, knowing it wasn't that serious, but wondering what that had to do with alcohol.

"I have not had my period," she said, watching him from the other side of the lounge. "That is usually a symptom."

Tony nodded. The words slowly computing in his head.

"Wait," he said softly, turning to face her. "You're late."

Every other time, he had heard those words, Tony, I think I'm late, usually from some girl he barely loved, fear had rushed over him, and the urge to run had been his only thought. Luckily, every time it had been a false alarm, bad math, or sadly a ploy to continue a failing relationship.

This time however, excitement fluttered in his stomach. His nose over her mouth. Tiny curls. He greeted this with arms wide open. He wanted this. He wanted this badly.

"Yes," she replied. "It usually happens when my iron is low. I am getting a blood test on Monday."

"You could be," he paused, not wanting to actually say the word.

Not wanting to jinx it. Ziva, was so sure, that it would be a hard road for them. Could it really be so easy for them?

"It is extremely unlikely," she declared, obviously reading between his lines.

Still she was abstaining from alcohol. Just in case. A part of her wondered. A small glimmer of hope flickered, but she was careful to try and snuff it, not wanting her heart to break, when reality came crashing down.

"But, it's a possibility right?" he asked, not wanting to be the crazy one.

"Technically, yes," Ziva replied, as he came and sat next to her. "But, I need you to understand it is very unlikely. I am on the pill, I have not had any other symptoms, and we know what we are facing when we decide to have a family."

He wasn't really sure what other symptoms for pregnancy were, beyond throwing up, and gaining weight. Ziva hadn't shown either of those, in fact she seemed to be losing weight, as she always did in the summer as the weather was more to her liking.

"I know," he said. Letting out a heavy breath, like a balloon deflating. He needed to keep his hopes in check.

"Please do not get your hopes up," Ziva said.

"I'm not," he lied. His hopes were already sky high. He knew the chances were slim, but he had always been the wildcard. He and Ziva had always defied the odds.

"I do not want you to be disappointed," she whispered, wrapping her hand in his. "I should not have even told you."

He heard the words, how she meant them. I don't want you to be disappointed in me.

"I'm glad you did," he admitted. Making sure he caught her eyes. "We should tell each other things."

"I know," she replied.

"Whatever happens," he muttered. "We're in this together. I promise."

A/N:

I don't own a thing.

Sorry to leave you hanging with this. Anyway, TIVA baby at this point in the journey; yay or nay?

Thanks for all the love. I owe so many review replies.