Disclaimer: I don't claim ownership to anything in the NCIS: LA universe. They belong to someone else.

Also, this hasn't been beta'd; all grammatical mistakes are mine.

She quietly shut the bathroom door and shook her head ever so slightly as she made her way back to the couch. He just pulled her closer as a few silent tears fell.

Another month where she felt like the ultimate failure. Not for the reason everyone would think, if she ever voiced these thoughts. She had never thought of child-bearing as something that would define her as a woman. Never had she had an all consuming need to carry a child of her own that she'd heard other women describe. Hell, five years ago, she didn't even want kids at all. But things had changed, their thing had changed and the look in his eyes when they saw kids playing at the beach slowly shifted from amused to longing. And then he'd asked and she couldn't deny him, finding herself longing for it as well as soon as the suggestion was verbalized. And now it seemed like there were babies everywhere; everywhere but with them.

She was used to excelling, being first, being the best and most of all, in control. And yet with this, all she felt was completely helpless. No matter the books she read or how she changed her diet (god, she missed sugar), there was no magic solution. And the doctors just said give it more time, everything's working the way it's supposed to be for both of them. So, if it was working the way it was supposed to then, dammit, why wasn't this working. It's not like they weren't awesome at the trying part. And in the grand scheme of things a year and a half wasn't that long and she knew in the rational part of her mind that others try longer. But she had never been the patient kind, that was his role. And she knew if she suggested alternative routes to a family, he'd follow her in a heartbeat.

But that, in her mind, would be her greatest failure. He'd always been the giving and forgiving one. The one patiently waiting while she figured herself out, forgiving every verbal jab, and the one physical one she still beats herself up over sometimes. He's the one that's outwardly affectionate, the one strangers tell her she's so lucky to have. She knows he knows she loves him, but this was supposed to be her greatest gift, one she desperately wants to give him, and yet, she's not being allowed to. Because if there's one thing she's certain of, Marty Deeks deserves to be a dad. The world owes him the right to chase curly-haired minutures, half him, half her, down the beach on Sunday mornings.

She allows herself five minutes before lifting her head and getting on with their evening. Grabbing the remote, she flips on the TV as he kisses her temple one last time before getting up to grab popcorn and beer. She won't stop trying to give him this, she just wishes she had a little more control.