Rifiuto: Non Mirena

"Tha's wond'rful." Sarah and her brother watched their mother- no, they couldn't look at her that way; she hadn't been a mother. Rivka had been more of a mother to them than Kathleen had. She glanced at her brother; Tim shared a look with Ziva, reaching down beneath the table to squeeze the Israeli's hand. At the other end of the table, Eli and John were engaged in soft conversation, and Tali was picking at her musht with vigorous interest, anything to keep herself out of the awkward tension that had taken over half the table.

She glanced once more at her brother, who leaned close to whisper softly in Ziva's ear; the Israeli smiled softly, nodding. If he wasn't going to bring it up, then-

Taking a deep breath, Sarah turned back to Kathleen and Rivka. "Timmy and I are considering converting."

The silence was defining.

"Wha' did ye say, Sarah?"

The girl turned to her mother. "Timmy and I are considering converting to Judaism." She licked her lips, glancing at her brother, who steadily met her gaze across the table. "Actually, no, we aren't considering it. We're going to convert."

Glances were cast about the table, Ziva dug her nails into Tim's thigh and Tali suddenly found the appetite to finish her fish.

"May I be excused, Ima?" Without waiting for a response, Tali stood, gathering her plate-

"Sit down, Talia." She didn't move. "Sit. Down."

Mouth shut, Tali did as told, dropping quickly back into her chair and returning her plate to the table; it clunked against the clothed table, the cutlery clicking together. She sighed, rubbing her forehead before resting her elbows on the table and turning her attention to her empty plate.

Some Shabbat dinner this was turning out to be.

No one spoke for several minutes; Ziva continued to dig her nails into the Tim's thigh until he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling at her. Kathleen and Rivka locked gazes as John and Eli shared a glance; meanwhile, Sarah held her head high, daring the four to challenge her. It suddenly seemed, that in that one moment, Sarah's entire life had been leading up to this, and damn it, she was proud of it. Finally, John spoke, ending the stifling silence.

"Conv'rt? T'... Ju..."

"Judaism." Sarah replied. "It is the religion that the Davids practice. That all the Jews in Israel and Palestine practice. Bu' you wou'dn't know tha', b'cause you nev'r both'red t' come t' Isr'el. In th' fifteen years Timmy an' I have been here, you nev'r both'red once to come an' visit, or check up on us, make sure we were okay. No' once. It's been fifteen years, Da."

"Ye don' speak t' yer fath'r like tha', Sarah Aileen. 'ave a littl' r'spect f'r yer eld'rs." The girl's head snapped towards her mother at the softly-spoken sentence, but it was her brother that spoke up this time.

"Respect?" Tim spit the word out, as though it were poison. "You wan' us t' show respect to you- who nev'r both'red t' come visit while we were growin' up. A few phone calls an' some lett'rs were all th' commun'cation we go' from you. Very littl' respect was given t' us, Mams." He shook his head. "You know, I've no idea o' th' future, bu' I can see th' past quite well. An' the present, if th' weather's clear."

Kathleen glanced at Sarah, who kept quiet. "I don'-"

Tim stood, throwing his napkin down on the table, yanking his hand out of Ziva's. He glanced at both John and Kathleen, his words biting with every syllable. "It means, Mams," He ground out mockingly, "tha' the east is our future, and the west is our past. We're no' goin' back t' Ir'land with you. Not now, not ev'r."

Without another word, he turned, stalking out of the house, his words ringing loud and clear in the dining room.

A moment passed, as the sisters shared a glance; in that time, Sarah quickly left the table, slamming the front door behind her, sending Kathleen jumping. Without a word, Ziva stood, rushing after the McGee siblings, determined to calm both down, and after a moment of tense silence, Tali unfolded her arms from the table and got up, slipping out of the house with the ease of a ghost passing through walls; the last sign of her was the soft click as she shut the front door.

Slowly, the four adults shared a glance. It was the two kids they shared between them that had brought about this... unfortunate dinner, not that anyone dared admit it. Eventually, Rivka spoke. "Well, this is one Shabbat dinner I will not soon forget." She then stood, starting to clear the plates as John stood to help her. As they disappeared into the kitchen, Eli turned to Kathleen, who hadn't moved since Tim had stormed out.

She seemed torn, confused by the man who'd sat across from her, relating him to the little boy she'd kissed goodbye at the airport that day. It was clear, that the anguish in her face was due to the years that had passed, to her scant role in raising her children, to her missing out on their childhood and teenage years. Though, unlike John, who'd actually expressed regret to the Mossad director in regards to his role in abandoning his children- it had startled Eli to hear the man use such painful words in regards to his kids, even though they were true- Kathleen had yet to say a word or utter a phrase that even remotely sounded along the lines of 'I'm sorry.'

If anything, the woman's stubborn Irish pride had taken hold, and she was refusing to accept that her children were fully grown- still seeing those two, innocent babes she'd given birth too- and set to make their own way in the world, in a country that had quickly become their home, with a family that had accepted them from the moment they arrived in Tel Aviv. Eli sighed. Didn't she see all the good the last fifteen years in Israel had done for her kids? The financial security they'd achieved, the independence? And, in Tim's case, the growing romance he'd gotten tangled up in with Ziva?

After a moment, Eli cleared his throat. Kathleen slowly turned to him. He stood, beckoning her to follow. "I need to show you something, Mrs. McGee."