Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A sigh escaped her throat, and she relaxed, burrowing further into the pillow beneath her head.

Wait a minute.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she shifted, looking over her shoulder. She was no longer lying on the floor, instead, she was curled up on the sofa, a blanket draped over her; the fire had since died to ash, and it was quiet. She pushed herself up, only to find that she was alone.

Slowly, she pushed the blanket to the furthest arm of the sofa, and sat up, putting her feet on the floor. She was sore from the night's activities, but a part of her screamed that it was the kind of soreness she enjoyed, and that she should find Tim and ask to experience it again. She quickly shook the thoughts away and got up, making her way towards the bathroom, and starting the shower.


When she came into work that morning, the Monday after the funeral, she was surprised to see Tim sitting at his desk, checking through his e-mail. She put her bag behind her desk, and wandered over to his desk. "Hey." He didn't look up. She licked her lips, trying again. "How are you doing? You okay?" He glanced quickly at her, before returning to his work.

"Fine, Ziva." She nodded.

"Good. That... that's good." She watched him for several minutes, hoping he'd say something more, but he kept his gaze trained on his computer. After a moment, she returned to her desk, wanting desperately to talk to him, but unsure of how to start. They worked in silence, neither noticing when Tony entered and plopped into his chair. Eventually, Gibbs showed up, and they spent the next few hours working on the cold cases they'd been given the week before. Ziva kept watching Tim out of the corner of her eye, but he kept quiet, and whenever Tony tried to goad a response out of him with some sort of joke or taunt, he would ignore the older agent. It took several across the room head slaps for Tony to get the hint and leave Tim alone.

At one point, Ziva looked up from her work to see Tim gone, and after making some excuse about going to the break room for a soda, she quickly rushed of to the bathroom. Without a second thought, she pushed open the door to the men's room, slipping inside and catching it quickly as it shut. Tim looked up from washing his hands, not at all surprised to see her in the bathroom. However, the other man at the urinal was surprised, and quickly finished, rushing from the room. "Hello. And goodbye." She smiled quickly at the man, but he grabbed the handle and fled as soon as she'd stepped away from the door. Her gaze latched on the door handle, and she shivered, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her tongue in disgust. "What is it with people and not washing their hands?"

She turned to Tim, wandering over to him with as much confidence as she could muster at that moment. "What are you doing in here, Ziva?" The Israeli beauty leaned against the sink counter, tapping her fingers against the countertop nervously.

"We... we need to talk." Tim sighed and shut off the water, quickly shaking his hands and then grabbing a couple paper towels. He quickly dried his hands, and moved towards the door. "Please, Tim."

The junior agent sighed, turning back and holding out his arms. "If it's about that night, Ziva, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of you. I wasn't thinking clearly, and it should never have happened. And I can promise you that it won't happen again."

She cocked her head to the side, confused. "Tim," A moment passed, as she sighed and righted her gaze, though he wouldn't meet hers. "you should not be apologizing. If anyone had taken advantage of your state of mind that night, it was me. I should have stopped what we were doing and... I didn't. I did not mean to take advantage of you like I did. You were vulnerable and in pain and emotional turmoil, and I took major advantage. And for that, I am deeply sorry."

He nodded, silent. They stood together, Ziva desperately trying to meet his gaze, and Tim refusing to let her. Eventually, though, he whispered,

"Well, it will never happen again, Ziva. I promise."

Then, without a word, he moved past her, leaving the bathroom and returning to the bullpen. She sighed, watching as the door shut softly behind him. After a moment, she followed, hurrying to catch up with him, but he was already seated at his desk and working. Gibbs looked up, blue eyes boring into hers, and she quickly returned to her desk, casting a glance at Tim as she sat down. Silence filled the bullpen for several minutes, and Ziva forced herself to keep calm, to not look at Tim, to not get up and go over to him, but it was hard. She hated to see him hurting like he was, even if he wouldn't admit it.

The elevator doors opened, and someone stepped out, making their way towards the stairs, before they stopped and poked their head into the bullpen. The team looked up, except for Tim. "Can I help you?" Gibbs asked, studying the woman. Tony, of course, instantly perked up.

"Hey, you new here? I'm very special Agent Anthony DiNozzo-" But the woman chuckled nervously and glanced around.

"I... I know who you are. You're Tony. And Agent Gibbs. And," She turned to the desk diagonal to Tim's. "that mean's that you're Ziva. Timmy's told me so much about you." Her gaze landed on the junior agent, and she made a beeline towards him as the others watched. "Timmy?" He looked up, surprised to see her.

"Emma." He rose to his feet, confused. "What are you... doing..."

"Penny got a call from Waverly, Tim. Sarah had a meltdown in her psychology class and they... they took her to the hospital..."

"Wh... where is she?" He demanded, skin turning ashen, even as he methodically grabbed his things. Emma swallowed, choking on the words.

"The psych ward."