Rifiuto: Non Miriena

"Zipporah had the same nightmare Asher's been having." Ziva said, climbing into bed that night. Tim sighed, pulling her close and rubbing her back.

"Any idea what it means?" She glared at him over her shoulder.

"I'm not a mind reader, Timothy." He chuckled.

"No, you're a mother. That's better than a mind reader." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. He pressed a kiss to her head, whispering, "You know Enya and Richard O'Maura?" She turned to him.

"Of course I know them; don't you? You work with Enya, and they live right up the street. Their daughter dances with-"

"Liron and Zipporah, I know. But I was saying, is that Asher doesn't know them. Or he didn't, until today. I ran into Enya and Devin in Dublin, and Asher-"

"Hid, like he does around people he doesn't now?" Tim nodded. She shook her head. "He has to get out of his spell."

"Shell." Tim corrected gently. "And I know. He only ever opens up around us or his friends in Curling. He needs someone to pull him out when he's not at home." She pulled away, turning to face him.

"Timothy McGee, are you suggesting we set our son up with Devin?" He shrugged.

"Just a suggestion, Zi." He replied with a kiss. As they settled down, Ziva curled up on his chest, whispering,

"Sarah wanted me to tell you, that... you are going to have a niece in four months." Tim pulled away to look at her, shocked.

"... two car bombs have shaken Dublin, leaving half a block covered in debris and death..." Ziva shook her head; it made her sick, to think that the city had finally been hit by the violence that rocked Clontarf and the other coastal towns for weeks.

"They're saying the Troubles have come back, Tim." She said, going into the kitchen and reaching out, rubbing his shoulders. He sighed, deleting what he'd written.

"You mean come to the Republic." He corrected gently, running a hand through his hair. She continued to work on his shoulders, working the knots out of his back, pressing a kiss to his head.

"Sixteen bombings, nineteen kidnappings and thirty-two murders in the last two months." He folded his hands, resting his chin on them.

"How many more are going to die this time around?" He whispered, pushing his laptop aside. She continued working on his shoulders until he got up, going to the counter and leaning against it, staring out the window. The kids played outside with Jethro, rolling around in the grass and laughing as the dog licked them and bounced around them. They'd promised to stay in the backyard, and come in immediately if anything suspicious caught their attention. "How many more innocent lives are going to be stolen before they even begin?" Ziva sighed, gripping the back of the chair, hand on her other hip.

"It is getting dangerous." She shook her head, crossing her arms as she went to her husband. "It reminds me of growing up in Israel. I don't like it, Tim." She looked up at him, seeing the fear in his eyes. But before he could reply, a distant whistling reached their ears.

"Get down!" Tim grabbed his wife around the waist, shoving her to the ground as a bullet broke through the window, flying past, only to embed itself in the front door. Several minutes passed, before they heard the back door open and the children come in, followed by Jethro.

"Abba?"

"Get down, all of you!" Tim snapped.

"Abba, what's happening?" Liron asked, holding onto Jethro as the dog lay on the ground with them. Tim shook his head, and got to his feet, keeping low.

"Stay down, Ziva." She moved to stand, but he shook his head. "Stay!"

By the time he got the phone and called police, things had calmed. The family was outside in the front as the police inspected the house. Tim was being looked at- due to the quick reaction, he'd only been nicked on the arm by the projectile, but the sight of the blood on his shirt was enough to scare the kids. "Well?" He demanded when he was finally released from the paramedics, going to the officer. The man shrugged.

"'twas a stray. Most likely shot somewhere else and ended up here. Not uncommon-"

"Aye, I know. Former Federal agent for over ten years; I'm very well-versed in bullets being fired and ending up where they shouldn't be." He glanced at his wife, pulling her close. "What I wanna know, is why our house? It could have killed my wife or my children!" The man held up a hand.

"I understand yer upset, Mr. McGee. And like I said before, 'twas a stray... 'twas most likely fired... blocks or miles away, missed its target, and found a new one."

"Abba? Abba." Tim's eyes snapped open as he realized he was being shaken, and he sat up, surprised to find all three of his children in their room. Ziva jerked awake as Tim sat up, falling off his chest and back into the mattress.

"Tim? What's going on?" She asked, yawning. She reached for the light and flicked it on, checking the time in the process. "It's one in the morn-" She stopped, seeing her children by the side of the bed. "Ah... you three are supposed to be in bed." Liron swallowed, whispering,

"Can... can we sleep with you? We're..."

"We're scared." Zipporah whispered, holding Mr. Bunny Rabbit close. Tim and Ziva shared a look.

"Because of this afternoon?" Tim asked. All three nodded. He sighed, catching is wife's eye. They hadn't faced this type of reaction since Jackson's death. After a moment, Ziva nodded.

"Ken, you may join us." She replied, pulling back the blankets. Zipporah immediately climbed into the bed, curling into Tim's side. Liron and Asher joined them, and Ziva pulled her boys into her arms, pressing kisses to their dark curls as Jethro hopped onto the end and settled down, ears tuned to protect his owners and their pups if need be. As Ziva gently hummed a soft lullaby, explosions could be heard- faint and far away, but still frightening. Zipporah buried her face in Tim's shirt.

"Are they good people or bad people, Ima?" Liron whispered, fear in his voice. Ziva held her sons close, pressing firm kisses to their head. She met Tim's gaze as he gently ran his fingers through Zipporah's hair to calm her, and Jethro growled softly, as if his warning could make the explosions go away. In a voice just as shaky, she whispered,

"... I don't know, my joy. I don't know."