Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2006.- Licia
"Are we really going to do this, Timmy? Go back to Ireland? Go back home?"
"We have to, Sarah. Mams-"
"Mams can handle the move fine on her own... she's not the only reason, is she?"
"No."
"It's the diary, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"But... how would we even know where to start looking?"
"They're called archives, Sarah."
"You know what I mean, Timmy."
"... I know. I just-"
"What about Ziva?"
"What about her?"
"Is she going to come?"
"She's not family, Sarah."
"You've been together three years. Everyone knows you're going to propose to her eventually. She might as well be family."
"... this isn't her concern. Besides, she has work."
"So do you."
"I already put in for time off. Vance approved it at the end of last week. I've got enough leave saved up for six weeks if necessary. As is, it should only take us about three weeks to get everything sorted out with Mams in Dublin and figure out the missing leaves of the family tree."
"Why not just take the full six weeks instead of three? You'll get the same leave next year, because knowing you, you'll start saving up again as soon as you get back from Dublin."
"If I choose to come back."
"What?"
"You heard me, Sarah."
"I know I heard you, but... but what do you mean 'if you choose to come back'? What are you thinking of doing, Timmy?"
"Moving back to Dublin permanently, or... maybe looking to transfer offices... or find work at a federal agency in Ireland, that isn't necessarily NCIS. I don't have to be employed at NCIS, Sarah. I can work in any federal agency I wish, I've just stayed with NCIS because it's..."
"Convenient?"
"... yeah. I want a change of scenery. Even if that scenery is Dublin. It's gotten... boring, I guess you could say."
"I get that. I think I might transfer schools. I can finish my masters anywhere; it doesn't necessarily have to be Waverly. I hear Dublin University has a good masters program for Literature... are we really thinking of doing this, Timmy?"
"I'm not thinking of it. I'm going to."
"... me too... so we're really doing this? We're going to go back to Dublin with Mams and... stay?"
"I am."
"... so am I. I just... I miss home. And America was a nice home, but..."
"But it's time to go back."
"Yeah."
He reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. The siblings lay facing each other on Sarah's bed, the diary closed between them. In truth, it had been more than just Kathleen moving and the diary that pushed the siblings- they'd both been considering going back to Ireland for a while. This was just the push they needed to get their butts moving.
Sarah sighed, relaxing as her brother continued stroking her hair; when they were kids, the familiar rhythm always managed to calm her down, even more so if it was Tim doing it. She loved her brother; despite there being only two years between them, Kathleen and the family often joked that they could have been twins they were so close. They had spent their early childhoods in Dublin doing everything together. Despite the Troubles raging in the North- or perhaps because of them- Kathleen had kept a tight hold on her children, especially after the miscarriage in 'eighty-seven. But it wasn't just Kathleen. All the mothers in Dublin had kept tight holds on their children at the time, for the violence in the North had been so prominent, it was only a matter of time before it took over the South as well. And when it did, it would bring about all out war.
"How do we do this, Timmy?"
"When I put in my request for leave, I informed Vance that, depending on how everything went, I might not return. He understood."
His sister nodded, picking up the diary and flipping through it. "Don't you find it a little odd that Mams' maiden name was O'Brien, but the rest of her family were O'Sheas?" She shifted onto her back.
He shook his head, propping himself onto his elbow. "Mams is an O'Shea by birth. For some reason, her parents saw fit to change the name at some point. I don't know why. I don't see anything particularly wrong with the O'Shea name. But for some reason, Grandfather decided that he no longer wanted to be an O'Shea and so changed it to O'Brien. Which is ridiculous, because he basically wiped out an entire branch of the family by doing so."
"He wiped out half the family." Sarah muttered, stopping on an entry. "Simply because he didn't like the name."
"There's more to it than that, Sarah. This goes way beyond not like the O'Shea name; this has something to do with the family itself and what happened with Timothy Michael and his siblings. It all stems back to them."
"Hmm." She let her dark gaze scan over the page before turning it and stopping again. "'Eight September, nineteen-fifteen.'" She glanced at her brother, who nodded for her to continue. "'Me belov'd Zipporah came t' me t'day b'fore I lef' f'r th' stocky'rd; aft'r checkin' on th' chil'ren, she slipp'd back int' our room, makin' 'er way t' where I was dressin' an' slipp'd 'er arms 'round me from b'hind. She was n'rvous- an' Zipporah's rarely n'rvous. I barely 'ad a chance t' ask 'er wha' was both'rin' 'er b'fore she blurt'd ou' sof'ly 'gainst me back,
"Shall 'rrive in May."
I turn'd t' her, no' und'rstanin' a word o' it, bu' she sai' nothin'; simply took me 'and an' held it 'gainst 'er belly, an' sudd'nly, th' meanin' was clear as day.'"
Tim chuckled softly, the image of the shock on his namesake's face flashing before his eyes. "Well, that's one way to inform your husband."
Sarah giggled, rolling onto her stomach and laying the book on the pillow before continuing. "'I fear me 'eart stopp'd once I realiz'd wha' she meant. As was, all I coul' manage t' do was squeak, an' she giggl'd, reachin' up t' catch me chin in 'er free 'and. "Are ye proud o' me, Timothy Michael?" She ask'd, her voice sof' an' fill'd wit' worry. "Tha' I am 'avin' 'noth'r o' yer chil'ren?"
Wha' she doesn' und'rstan' is tha' I woul' be proud o' 'er regar'less o' wheth'r she carries me chil' or no'. Zippi 'as nev'r follow'd trad'tional conventions, an' I 'ave nev'r 'spect'd 'er too. She is as wil' as th' moors o' our belov'd I'eland, an' I woul' nev'r ask f'r anythin' oth'r than wha' she is. It matt'rs no' t' me if we ev'r 'ave 'noth'r chi'd. I am simply 'appy wit' Seán Joseph and Kathleen Helen, 'noth'r chil' 'tis no' necessary, bu' Zippi 'as nev'r been conten' wit' our two. She star'ed askin' aft'r a third 'bout a year ago, bu' I pu' me foo' down, insistin' 'twas no' necessary t' 'ave a third. Bu' me wife is stubb'rn, an' once she ge's an idea int' tha' brillian' 'ead o' 'ers, she won' be satisfi'd 'ntil she 'as wha' she wants.'"
"She sounds like Ziva."
"Great-great-grandmother Zippi?" Her brother nodded. "I guess she does, in a way."
"Stubborn as all hell, that's for sure."
Sarah laughed, knowing he was right. If Ziva put her foot down about something, she refused to budge and no one would change her mind. She turned back to the diary, finding where she'd left off.
"'I do r'sent, 'owev'r, tha' Zippi feels it 'er 'duty' t' bear 'noth'r chil. I tol' 'er when I marri'd 'er tha' I woul' nev'r force 'er t' do anythin' she dinna wish t' do. Tha' I woul' no' make 'er 'ave chil'ren if she dinna wish t'- tha' I woul' be conten' jus' 'avin' 'er wit' me f'r th' res' o' me days, regar'less o' wheth'r God gif'ed us wit' chil'ren or no'. Bu' all she 'as ev'r want'd was chil'ren, an' it makes 'er so 'appy t' be a moth'r, 'ho am I t' deny 'er 'er deep'st wish?'"
"She was like Kit." Tim whispered, meeting Sarah's gaze. "All great-great-grandmother Zippi wanted was to have children and be a mother."
Sarah's green eyes filled with sadness, as she thought back on the memory that had clouded her sleep before her brother had woken her up. "And she got her wish. Kit didn't."
"Unless the rumors are true and she remarried after her husband died, and had a child with her second husband."
"And that... that is the million dollar question." Sarah whispered, closing the diary and turning to face her brother. He nodded.
"But is it true?"
