She was cooking eggs, when he stepped through the door. He was nursing a pounding head, a sore back, and a heavy heart. Her hair pulled into a messy bun, and she was wearing the lounge clothes, she had been in for the past couple of days.

She looked up at him, her nose red, and her eyes surrounded by dark rings. She had not slept well, he deduced. Just like the last few days.

"I'm sorry," he said, before he could say anything else.

Her mouth quivered. He watched as she turned off the eggs, and moved toward him. He moved toward her. They met somewhere in the middle. Between the kitchen counter, and that huge houseplant.

"I am sorry too," she whispered, as she stood in front of him.

God, he loved this woman. He loved her so much it hurt. And, everything hurt so damn much right now.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" he asked, as he wrapped his arms around her.

Her head on his chest, fresh tears soaking his shirt. She had cried so much in these last few days, where were these tears coming from. She could rehydrate the world with all this water.

He pressed his nose into her hair. Rubbing his hand up her back.

They should just stay here, he decided. Nothing else mattered.

"I made you want to leave," she murmured. Her voice vibrated on his chest, which made his chest hurt.

"No," he said, moving slightly, and tugging her chin so that they were facing each other. "I just didn't know what else to do. I shouldn't have walked out."

"I do not blame you," she said. "These last few days, they have been hard."

He could still remember that horrible feeling he had on Wednesday morning, as Ziva rushed off to class. Her nausea suddenly surprisingly manageable. She had been complaining of back aches but the pregnancy apps told them it was just Ziva's body making room for the baby.

Still, he had held her tighter that morning, before she rushed off. Needing to get to campus for eight in the morning. A storm was brewing, but he didn't know who would get caught in its wake.

"Yeah, they have been," he whispered, his voice floating away.

"I made some breakfast," Ziva said, rubbing his back. "We should have some breakfast."

He smelt the eggs. His stomach rumbled as it often did. How could everything be so normal, but so not-normal at the same time?

"You didn't have to," he replied. "I know you're still hurting."

His pain was all emotional. Hers was a double whammy; physical and emotional. It was happening inside of her body.

"I wanted too," Ziva said, her eyes glassy.

She could not give him a baby, but she could at least give him breakfast. An offering to the fertility gods, not that they were listening.

"Let's eat," he said, offering her just the hint of a DiNozzo thousand-watt grin.

He sipped the coffee, and watched as she moved the food around on her plate. She was never a big eater.

"Your eggs will get cold," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

"I know," she said. "I am just not hungry."

"I can make you something else," he offered, starting to get up.

"No," she said. She put a mouthful of food in her mouth. They sat in silence. The grey light streamed through the windows. "This will be fine."

"I really hurt me, when you said there was nothing to take care of anymore," Tony said, as the previous days fight flooded both their memories.

"I am sorry," she said softly. "I did not mean it."

"I need you know that I still want to take care of you," Tony said, rubbing her hand. "Til death do us part."

They had not said the vows yet, but they lived them. Already.

She nodded. Tears fell down her face. Her eggs seasoned with fresh salt.

"I know you're blaming yourself," he said, trying not to cry himself. "I need you to know that I don't blame you. I never will."

She nodded. Confirming his suspicion. Self-blame, was a riptide she was caught in.

"It was my fault," she said softly. "I was so concerned about how my studies would be affected, I was not thinking about the joy that lay ahead."

He thought of that phone call, Wednesday lunchtime. Ziva sniffling as she revealed she was bleeding. He had told her to stay where she was, and ran out of the squadroom. He had nearly broken the speed limit to get to her.

He thought of her sitting in the car. Hand over her abdomen. Her face paling as the cramps hit. They were fighting a losing battle.

"One of us has to be the realist," he whispered. "Your realism didn't cause this Ziva. You remember what the doctor said."

Sometimes these things just happen, the doctor had said as their faces crumpled in the curtained off emergency room cubicle. The college kid in the cubicle next to them, was throwing up a months worth of alcohol. It felt so cruel.

"But, it was my body," she said, "My body is the one that failed."

Her body had been through so much. It ached when it rained. Still, she tried to tame it. To control it.

"It just wasn't meant to be," he whispered. "Not this time."

"I know you are hurting," she replied. "I know you are trying to be strong. You do not need to be strong for me."

He wouldn't call himself the strong one. Not right now.

"I was really excited for a moment there," he said his voice cracking.

He watched as she flinched. She sniffled.

"Me too," she admitted. Her voice small. Barely above a whisper.

"I know it's all gonna suck for a while," he declared. "But it'll get better."

It had too.

"Okay," Ziva said, slowly.

"For a while, I thought that we lost the baby because I wanted it too much," he uttered. His own eyes getting glassy. "I thought I didn't deserve it."

Hearing the words out loud, undid the warped logic he had used to get to that conclusion. Still, the brain was not a logical beast.

"You remember what the doctor said," she replied. Echoing what he had said earlier.

Sometimes these things just happen.

"I know," he replied.

Quiet stewed. Ziva took a small bite of her watered down eggs.

"I thought that reminding myself that this was a possibility, would make it easier when it happened," Ziva declared, before taking a sip of tea.

Tony sucked in a breath, which made his chest sting. That was Ziva, always preparing for the worst. How could she not, when so much had been taken.

"It did not," Ziva said. "I know how much you wanted this Tony."

"We both wanted this," he whispered. "Besides, it will happen for us again, down the line."

"What if it doesn't?" she asked. "It was such a fluke in the first place."

His chest ached again. Would the universe be so cruel.

"We'll deal with that," he said, with a determined nod.

That was Ziva, always preparing for the worst. She was conditioned so.

"What if it keeps happening?" she asked. "There is scar tissue."

He could not think of anything more cruel. To have a glimmer of hope, then to have it ripped away.

"We'll deal with that as well," he answered. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together. I won't leave you like that again."

"I do not blame you for walking out," Ziva said. "Things would have just kept escalating."

He nodded. The fight had been so full of pain. Both of them with tears in their eyes. Harsh words had been spoken.

"Still," he said. "I won't do it again."

"I know," Ziva said. "I am glad you went to Tim's, I was worried you would go to your fathers."

"Didn't want to be alone," he said. Repeating what he had told McGee.

You are not alone, he had told her once upon a time, in her native tongue. As she face another tragedy. One that sent her halfway across the words.

"I know," she said, biting her lip to stop the tears. "I am sorry you felt so alone."

He sniffled in response. They had stopped the bleeding, why did this keep hurting.

"It really helped," he said softly. "Talking to someone. Talking about it."

"We can keep talking about it," Ziva said. "I promise."

"I'd like that," he said. "I know it's just gonna suck for the next few months."

She nodded.

"I think we should tell the others," he whispered.

"There is nothing to tell," she declared. "It is over."

"You got Abby's forty-thousand texts," he uttered softly. "They were worried about us."

"I know," she said. "It just really hurts right now."

"Besides Mr and Mrs Autopsy Gremlin deserve to know why we'll be canceling dinner plans for the near future," Tony said. "They should know it's to do with us, not them."

Breena had posted a picture of her and Jimmy together, in the 'family' group chat Abby had started now that the team were going in their own directions. Breena had been round with pregnancy. The notification had come as Tony was driving them back from the hospital. A cruel coincidence.

"I am trying really hard not to feel envious of them," Ziva admitted. "They worked so hard for their baby."

Baby Palmer was so wanted, and so loved already.

He nodded. He didn't want anything to happen to Jimmy and Breena's baby, he just wanted his and Ziva's baby back. That's how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to be a couple of months behind the perfect Palmers. Their kids would be playmates.

"I just don't think I could face sitting opposite them, right now," he declared. "I feel like such an arsehole."

He didn't know if he could sit opposite them at dinner. Breena glowing with pregnancy. Palmer brimming with excitement. How sick this jealousy made him feel. How guilty.

"This will pass," she whispered. "It has to."

They had face so many things in their near-decade together, but this hurt so much.

"Yeah," he said. Not entirely convinced.

A quiet flowed between them. Everything still hurt, but there was peace.

"I feel guilty," Ziva started, and Tony's ears picked up. His started formulating answers to soothe her guilt. "On Friday, I recieved a email about dropping one of classes. I was relieved that I did not have to do that, I remember thinking that things were going back to normal, but they are not. Are they?"

On the outside they were, but on the inside everything was a mess. Everything hurt.

"Not really," he said.

She nodded at his confirmation.

"I want us to keep talking about this," he said. "I know things are going to be hard, for the next few months."

"Yes," Ziva said. "They are."

Both of them knew about grief, and loss. But this was a new iteration of the same pain. It felt different. To grieve for the idea of something.

"And maybe one day, we can talk about trying again," he whispered.

She flinched. It was too soon, he interpreted.

"Not right now," he promised. "But one day. Soon."

"After the wedding," she said quietly. "I think we should talk about trying again, then."

The sun peeked through grey clouds. They were moving toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Okay," he said. It seemed so far away but so close at the same time.

Quiet slipped between them. Ziva started gathering the plates. He got up to help her. They made small talk, filling the apartment with life again. They talked about McGee had suggested Tony take a shower, before he headed out of the McApartment. The talked about small things, while scraping the half eaten breakfasts off the plates.

"I threw out all those crackers and teas you brought," Ziva declared, as he dunked the plate in the water. "I could not face looking at them."

"Okay," he said, as he put his dishwater soaked hand on her shoulder.

He knew this dance. Ziva desperately trying to assert control over the uncontrollable.

"We do not need them," Ziva said, looking down at the murky dishwater. "Not anymore."

Tony's mind turned to the newly-bookmarked pages on his internet browser. He had been looking at baby monitors with cameras, and car seats that with high safety ratings, he did not need any of that now.

"Yeah," he whispered. His voice cracking.

He wanted this all to stop. For it all to be some kind of bad dream. What he would give for this to be some fear-induced nightmare.

He started drying the plates, as Ziva put them on the draining board. She was slower in her movements. Her body was still processing things.

A knock on the door disturbed them.

"Junior," Senior bellowed from the otherside of the door. Ziva jumped out of her skin. Tony moved to the door, to let his father in.

He was supposed to pick his Dad up from the airport. He hadn't text him about the change of plans. How quickly, he had become just as bad as his Dad.

"What's going on?" Senior asked, as he walked through the apartment door, his suitcase trailing behind. Senior, being Senior did not read the room. He did not notice the sadness in Tony and Ziva's faces. "What was this good news, you texted me about on Monday?"

With that Ziva's face crumpled.

When would this hurt end?

A/N:

I don't own a thing.

I know a lot of you are hurt. I got some very passionate reviews. I appreciate that this an unexpected journey. I wish I was a better writer, who could have written myself out of the hole I got myself in. But alas, here we are. Thank you for all of the reviews. I really appreciate every reader and review.

I understand people ditching the fic. I get it. If it's not floating your boat, go out and find what does. I exit out of fics all the time. I'll miss you, but there are many more fics out there.

To answer some questions from the guest reviews:

The angst won't go on and on. However, things will be revisited. Grief is not a linear journey.

This fic is so out-of-cannon its unreal. This chapter is set autumn 2014, in cannon Tali would have been a few months old.

This will end happily.

The next chapter, will be Gibbs and Tony talking about Tony wanting to leave the team. Future chapters may or may not include; Tony and Ziva talking about wedding venues, Senior and Tony talking about his mother, and Tony cooking a Thanksgiving turkey.

Thanks again dear readers. I know this sucks right now, but there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

I know I'm posting this on mother's day (that wasn't planned I assure you). I also know this deals with real issues, that as many families go through. So, my heart goes out to those, who have suffered infertility, baby or pregnancy loss, and for everyone for whom this day is a tough day.