Rifiuto: Non Miriena
The child sniffled, but refused to turn around. She kept quiet, hearing Tim enter the room and softly shut the door. A moment passed, before she glanced over her shoulder. Her father stood with his hands on his hips, studying her. She had a copy of Jane Eyre in one hand and a sweater in the other, her suitcase open at her feet. But when she looked up at him, she didn't see anger in his eyes; she saw worry, fear. "Adina." She dropped the book and turned to her father. "Oh Adinaleh." He came to her, kneeling down to look into her face. "Mah karah. Huh? Tell me." She sniffled, sitting down on her bed. Tim watched her cross her arms over her small chest, the sweater hanging from her hand. A pout colored her pretty features and Tim couldn't help but think how like her mother she was.
And, like her mother, she was growing up faster than she should have been. The only difference, was that Tim and Ziva could prevent it.
The child choked out a sob, and Tim joined her on the bed. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Adinaleh." He whispered, reaching out and brushing the tears away with his thumb. She sniffled, looking up at her father. Silent, she bit her lip, reaching out and unbuttoning his shirt. Tim watched her, confusion in his green eyes.
"Does it hurt?" She asked softly, looking up at him. He didn't reply. Once his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, Adina moved closer, pushing it aside and tracing the scar on her father's chest; identical in every way. He winced as her small fingers brushed over the wound, and slowly, she replaced her hand with her ear. Tim was silent as his daughter pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Minutes passed, before she choked out, "Ani Mitzta'eret, Abba. I'm so sorry, Daddy." Gently, Tim cradled her head, as his child broke down, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Shh. It's okay, tinoket. It's not your fault. It's never been your fault." He pressed a kiss to her hair, fighting his own tears. Obviously Adi had heard the arguement between Tim and Ziva, and was blaming herself for this happening to her. But it wasn't her fault, she had to see that. She had to understand that she was not the cause of their fight, that this... condition was not the cause.
Tim looked up, to see Ziva standing in the doorway, watching her husband and daughter. She swallowed, taking a deep breath before turning and heading back into the living room.
She poured another glass, taking a sip as she set the bottle on the counter. Ziva didn't drink much; she'd never liked the taste of alcohol, and so drinking it straight, she didn't do much. The only exception had been after Jenny died and she and Tim had found her body. She'd drunk then, and then lost herself in her husband. Her only true purpose for alcohol was cooking. Now though, with her family once again in turmoil, she reached for the bottle, preferring to drown her own sorrows in alcohol than raised voices. "She blames herself, you know."
She finished her glass and poured another. Her gaze never wavered from the gin as it filled the bottom of the glass. She raised her eyebrows. "It's not her fault." She replied, sipping her drink. Tim wandered over to her, taking the glass out of her hands and taking a sip as he sat down beside her. She watched him, her gaze moving to his lips.
"Tell that to our daughter." He replied, finishing the glass and filling it again. He took another sip, but before he could return the glass to his lips, Ziva's were on his, drinking him in. She reached up, holding his face in her hands. Slowly, she pulled away, staring into his eyes. He searched her gaze, finding as much pain in hers as he'd found in Adi's. This diagnosis was destroying their family, and they'd only just discovered it.
"We will be okay, Tim." She whispered, holding his face in her hands. She nudged her nose against his, breathing deeply. "We will be okay. Adi will be okay."
Adi fled back to her room. She'd snuck out to the living room not long after Tim left, and the sight of her mom drinking had shaken her. The fact that they were fighting about her only cemented that she was the cause of their pain. If she hadn't gotten this... thing, her parents would still be as loving and affectionate as they'd been when she was a toddler. Maybe it was the stress of their jobs; being Ambassadors of America to all the world was obviously stressful, but they'd always gotten through it, until now.
She'd pushed her suitcase back under the bed after her dad had come in, but now, she pulled it out again, and returned to packing. If she were the cause of all her parents' problems, then she was going to take herself out of the equation. The sooner she disappeared from her parents' memory, the better. If only she had a magic wand, then she could cast a spell and erase herself from her parents' memory, like Hermione in the last Harry Potter novel. As she grabbed the teddy bear Tony had given her parents before she was born, a knock came on the door. Quickly, she shoved her suitcase back under the bed, climbing onto the bed and snuggling into the pillows as her parents entered. "Adinaleh, can we talk?" Tim asked. She nodded. Tim glanced at his wife, before each took a seat on either side of their daughter. "We... are going to be going to Ireland in a couple..." He stopped, swallowing. "In a week. But first, we are going to take you to the doctor and have you're going to try this drug- it's supposed to slow this precocious puberty." Adi looked at her mother.
"What's... precocious puberty?" Ziva sighed, glancing at her husband. Gently, she took Adi's hand. In a soft, calm voice, she began to explain.
