Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Thanks to Saissa, Stargazer22123, JonnyP86 and Peglet for reviewing 2.

Late November 1997

Arlington, Virginia

He stared at the Star of David, his mind going back to that hot summer day in Tel Aviv, to that small coffeeshop, to the corner table near the bookcase and the girl who'd proven him wrong. He, like most Americans, had the typical misconceptions regarding Israelis- that they were all devout Jews with strict rules on gender roles. But that girl-

That girl was the furthest thing from the stereotype.

Sure, she was just barely sixteen, but she acted much older than her years. She obviously bore witness to things no child should see in their lifetime. She was also obviously a reader, for she'd eagerly taken part in their discussion. He chuckled softly at the memory of her eyes lighting up when they discussed the relationship between Hemingway and Fitzgerald, and the various connections between the famous authors' novels.

He'd gone back to the cafe the next day, but she wasn't there, and then, he'd been deployed to Iraq, where he'd served four months ago before finally returning home. He'd spent the last three weeks at the VA, on suicide watch thanks to PTSD caused by the bomb that had exploded near his base in Iraq. For a moment, he'd thought he'd lost his life, and had silently prayed that he had. Only to wake up at the MASH hours later, damaged mentally and injured externally. He'd been honorably discharged, and sent home. He'd spent weeks in hospital, going through therapy, counciling, and now, he was able to walk with only occasional use of a cane.

He had just left Arlington Cemetery, having attended a funeral for a friend he'd served with, and had decided to stop by his parents' house in Arlington. He hadn't seen them since he'd shipped out months ago, and now, felt it time to seek them out. Tucking the Star back into his pocket, he pushed himself away from the car and headed up the walk of the little cottage home.

The front door opened, and someone rushed out, calling for him. "Timmy!" He looked up, to see his younger sister, Sarah, rushing towards him. When she got close enough, she threw her arms around his neck, sending him stumbling back.

"Oof! Sarah... Timmy can't breathe..." He lost his balance, managing to manuever so that they landed on the grass. He toppled onto the lawn, his little sister still on top of him, her face buried in his shirt.

"I missed you so much, Timmy!" She said, squeezing. He choked.

"Sarah... Timmy really can't breathe..."

"Sarah, let your brother breathe!" He looked up, to see his father holding out a hand to him. Gratefully, he took it once Sarah had clambered off him. They watched in silence as he knelt down and grabbed his cane, leaning on it slightly. Sarah watched him, brow knitting in confusion.

"Timmy?" He turned to his little sister. She was fourteen, a freshman in high school, one of hundreds of military kids who had a family member in the military- in Sarah's case, she had two; their dad and her older brother. Her green eyes sparked with worry, asking a thousand questions. "Did you get hurt?"

He sighed. How did he tell his little sister that he'd been in an explosion that had killed for members of his team? How did he explain that he'd been stationed first in Israel, and then in Iraq, where he'd seen horrific things, things that kept him up at night or made him wake up screaming? How did he explain that his injury and his actions that day had bestowed upon him an honorable discharge, with a pruple heart for being wounded while he helped others at the base after it was attacked? How did he even bring that up?

And then there was the girl he'd met in Israel? What did he say to that? He was a good Catholic boy, raised in the traditional Roman Catholic church, had been an alter boy, and the girl he'd met- the beautiful, funny, intelligent and intriguing now-sixteen-year-old girl with the striking dark eyes and mass of curls- was Jewish, as evident by the Star he hid within his pocket. Sure, there could never be- would never be- a future with that girl- not only their age differences, but also their religions and the places they lived- but still, she had left an impression. Swallowing, he turned to his little sister.

"There was... an accident, in Iraq. We were coming back from patrol, pulling into base, and a bomb went off. Blew our jeep and half the base to bits. I tried to get the others out, but we lost..." He shuddered. "Recieved an honorable discharge and was sent back. Spent a few months in the VA in D.C., came home." He shrugged. "The cane is a lot better than the wheelchair I was using the first few weeks." His mother gasped, and Sarah slowly went to her older brother, wrapping her arms tight around him. He held her close, pressing a kiss to her head.

"You're okay though, right?" She asked, looking up at her brother. He met her gaze, thinking.

"As good as I can be. I'm... being awarded the Purple Heart in a couple weeks, but I don't deserve it. I didn't do anything that would warrant a medal. I just did my job." He looked up as his mother reached out and took his face in her hands.

"You came back to us. You didn't return in a flag-covered coffin, you came home to us. That... that is more imporant than any medal." He gave her a small smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Now, let's get you inside. Have you eaten anything?" He shook his head. "Then let's get you inside and get you something to eat." As their parents headed inside, Sarah turned to her brother.

"Timmy, what aren't you telling me?" He shook his head.

"Nothing, Sar." She studied him for a moment before heading inside. As she stepped through the door, he dug into his pocket, pulling out the necklace.

Iva.

That was all he had to go on. A moment passed before he tucked it back into his pocket, heading inside. Even if he never found Iva, he'd always remember her.