Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Thanks to Reader aka Sun Samurai and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 8.

There was no way he could allow this to happen- the case was too important, for both the victims and their families and the agency. And yet, he'd watched today as Tim had sat beside her bed; the young man had been the only one she would speak to, respond to...

He understood that she was frightened, that she'd just survived something where there were only about twenty instances of recorded 'sole survivors'. He remembered reading about Cecilia Cichan, the four-year-old little girl who'd been found still strapped to her seat in the wreckage of Northwest Airlines Flight Two-Twenty-Five back in eighty-seven... and the Flight Two-Zero-Three crash of Galaxy Airlines in Reno, Nevada, that left a seventeen-year-old boy the only survivor.

And now this young woman was among the ranks.

If only he could prevent the terrors, the nightmares, the guilt and shame at having survived such devastation-

She whimpered in her sleep, and her small fingers reaching for something to grasp, anything. He sighed, taking a seat beside the bed and reaching out, allowing her to take his hand. She dug her jagged, broken nails into his rough flesh, as though trying desperately to keep her grip on the armrest of seat. Minutes passed, as he watched her struggle within the nightmare, most likely reliving the crash that nearly stole her life.

A scream escaped her throat and she struggled to sit up, her eyes snapping open. He stood, quickly leaning over her, resting his hands to her shoulders to keep her from hurting herself further. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay, you're safe."

"... where... T..."

"I sent him home for the night. He'll be back in the morning." Gibbs replied, as the girl slowly relaxed. She swallowed, searching his face.

"But-"

"He needs to sleep, and so do you." She swallowed, shaking her head.

"I..." Fear filled her dark eyes, and he sighed, returning to the chair by her bed.

"Would you feel better if I stayed with you for the night?" She shook her head, only wanting Tim, but when she realized that he wasn't going to hurt her, she slowly nodded.


Tim awoke the next morning, confused as to the slim girl wrapped around him. She nestled into him, snoring softly-

A moment passed as he reached behind him for his phone on the nightstand; he wasn't surprised to find that it was close to three in the morning... and he usually went out for a run at four. As he rubbed his face, the events of the last several hours came rushing back into the forefront of his mind.

The plane crash, finding the only survivor, waiting at Bethesda for her to survive surgery...

He'd then come home to find her sitting on his sofa, dressed in his NCIS sweats and one of his MIT shirts, his leather jacket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes were red and her hair was a mess, her make up running in rivers down her cheeks. She'd reached for him, and he'd gone to her, pulling her into his arms, rocking her gently. Over ordered Chinese and homemade Irish Soda Bread ice cream, they'd sat at the small cafe table in his kitchen, she telling him of the rape attempt she'd managed to escape, and he trying to give as much comfort as he could. They'd then settled on the sofa, popping in Fairy Tale. Eventually, she'd begun to doze against him, and he'd carried her to the small guest room, tucking her in before going to bed. At some point in the middle of the night, she'd climbed into bed with him.

Slowly, carefully, he extracted himself from her embrace and slipped out of bed. After quickly brushing his teeth, he got dressed and slipped out of the apartment, leaving a note to let her know that he was going for a run and would be back soon. As he slipped his headphones into his ears, he told himself that she was lucky to have escaped the assault-

He stopped, hearing the whoosh as a plane took off overhead, and he looked up. The wreckage of Flight Three-Twenty-One was currently laid out in the evidence garage, Ducky and Palmer had a full autopsy, and every team at the agency was working on the case, with Gibbs's team taking lead. So far, all they knew about the flight was that it had taken off from Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv at about eight the prior evening- the eleven hour forty-four minute flight had then crashed down in the Navy Yard about seven that morning, D.C., time.

Right around the time everyone had settled at their desks.

So, if the timeline was right, the plane had been headed for Dulles when it crashed.


She sat up, surprised to see him in pulling on a light blue button-down. "What time is it?"

"Almost five." He grabbed his jacket, pulling it on. "I'm gonna run down to the cafe across the street and pick up some pastries. Anything specific?" She shook her head. "Okay. I'll be back soon." He leaned down, pressing a quick, firm kiss to her cheek. "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen." Once he was gone, she lay back among the blankets, burrowing into the pillow. His scent enveloped her, and she sniffled.

It had been so long since she'd seen him- though they were both in D.C., he was always caught up in work and didn't have time to get together with her. After a moment, she got up, shuffling into the kitchen and pouring a cup of coffee. Her gaze moved over the file he'd brought home from work the night before, and she quickly flipped through it-

Flight Three-Twenty-One.

That was the plane that had crashed in the Navy Yard- the one that had been all over the news as of yesterday.

As she took a seat at the table and flipped through the file, the ringing of his cell caught her attention. After a moment, she flicked it open. "Hello?"

It was silent. "Um... hello? Is someone there?"

"T... Ti... Is... is Special Agent McGee there?" She furrowed a brow.

"Who is this?"

The person on the other end of the line swallowed. "Z... Ziva. Who are you?"

"I... I'm Sarah. How... how did you get this... number?" The girl on the other end swallowed.

"He... Tim gave... he gave it to me."