Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Thanks to DS2010 for reviewing 24 and 25, and JPElles for reviewing 25.

2012

The atmosphere reminded Ziva of the documentaries she'd seen on Ireland. A small little hole-in-the-wall in the Silver Spring area, Pollaphuca pub was everything Ziva imagined a pub in Ireland to be. Crowded, noisy, smelling of whiskey and whatever constituted as 'pub grub' as Tim and Sarah called food. The small restaurant attached at the back of the pub had a stage where musicians played Irish music and a floor big enough for a people to dance.

As Ziva slid into the chair between Tim and Sarah and across from Mr. and Mrs. McGee, she felt suddenly self-conscious. The afternoon had been fairly uneventful; nothing but finishing reports and filing at the office, and Gibbs had released everyone early, telling Ziva to keep an eye on Tim, and that if anything happened during dinner to let him know.

"Ye've chosen a fine place, Timmy." Mr. McGee said, as the menus were handed out.

"Act'ally, 'twas Ziva's idea t' come 'ere, Da. I jus' suggested th' place." John McGee's gaze flicked to the Israeli, and Ziva felt her face warm.

"She 'as good taste, then." He winked at her, and the young agent felt herself relax. At least she had the approval of one of the older McGees. "Bu' then again, she's 'bout t' marry a McGee, so why shou' I be s'prised?"

Kathleen gently swatted John's arm, giving him a look that the kids knew all too well. They shared a glance and a grin behind their drinks. Ziva just watched the entire exchange in relative silence and confusion.

"I have never eaten Irish food," Ziva glanced at Tim. "What would you recommend?" Her fiance thought a moment, before,

"I'd suggest th' broil'd steak wit' whisk'y sauce-"

"Mams's bet'er." Sarah interjected.

"So's 'er bang'rs 'n mash, bu' is Mams cookin' t'nigh', Sarah? I dinna think so." Tim replied, meeting his sister's gaze. The siblings shared a heated glance across the table, before Ziva once more broke the silence.

"What are bangers and... hash?"

"Bang'rs an' mash." Sarah corrected.

"Mashed potato's an' sausage." Kathleen clarified, reaching over and patting the Israeli's hand. The younger woman nodded in understanding. The table fell into silence, before the waitress came by, taking their orders. Music soon began to play from the band on the stage, and everyone in the restaurant and bar fell silent. Soon, however, clapping started, and people go up to dance. Sarah clapped her hands in enjoyment, before allowing another patron to come and pull her to her feet. Tim soon followed suit with the other man's partner, and Ziva sat back with their parents, watching as two siblings easily fell back into time with the music.

"Bot' Timmy an' Sarah did dance when they were lit'le." Kathleen explained, clapping along with the music. Ziva watched her, slowly following the movement of the older woman's hands before she finally understood the rhythm. Her gaze moved back up to the dancing.

To see such a smile on both Tim and Sarah's faces, after all the stress and confusion of the last several days, it made her happy, to know that they were both having such a good time, if only for an hour or so. She watched as Tim took hands with another young woman on the dance floor; the dancing reminded her of the scene in 1997's Titanic, when Jack took Rose down to third class to that Irish party.

A fast, partnered jig, that just watching made Ziva's head spin.

She looked up when John stood, holding out a hand to his wife. "C'mon, Katlee, le's show our babes 'ow 'tis truly done."

Kathleen glanced at Ziva. "Will ye be alrigh' by yerself?" Ziva nodded, not wanting to spoil the older woman's fun. After a moment, Kathleen allowed John to pull her to her feet, and out onto the dance floor. She laughed as the older couple soon fell into the same whirling jig their children had been caught up in, and cried out in delight with the rest of the patrons watching as the dancing got faster- for a brief moment, the modern day jeans and shirts the women wore seemed to be replaced with the long skirts and blouses of a bygone era; a time when all there was to focus on was the music and enjoyment, be it with friend or complete stranger.

I am watching that party down in the bowels of the Titanic; they have allowed me a rare glimpse into their world-

"Ziva."

She looked up to find Tim holding a hand out to her, inviting her to join in the fun. Instantly, she shook her head. "Oh, no, I... I don't know how to... this kind of dancing." He chuckled.

"'tis no' 'ard, I prom'se." She hesitated. "C'mon." Taking a deep breath, she took his hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet and onto the dance floor. Tim's arm immediately went around her waist, his other hand taking hers, and Ziva soon discovered that she had been pulled into that party in third class; the music seemed to envelope her, as it enveloped everyone, drawing them into a party that seemed never-ending. Her grip tightened on his arm, as they swirled in circles, going in and out of the other dancers, until all she could see was Tim, feel his heartbeat keeping in time with hers, the joy of the music flowing through her blood and into her heart.

Deep, deep down, she had always known that Tim was Irish, real, true Irish, even if he never said anything.

And deep down she'd always considered herself an outsider to the world he called his own outside of NCIS- the home and family he'd reluctantly shared with the team over the last few years- the past he'd kept buried under lock and key for so, so long. But now-

Now, even with all the pain he and Sarah had been enduring over the last several weeks, he was sharing that life with her, that family with her; inviting her in and asking her to stay, asking her to accept even the bad with the good.

Like a marriage. She thought, meeting his bright green eyes as they took hands and proceeded to spin in the center of the dance floor as the rest of the dancers circled them. She let out a cry of delight, finally allowing herself to have fun for the first time since this whole ordeal had started. He released her hands and caught her around the waist, taking her other hand, guiding them back into the jig with an ease she never knew he possessed.

She stumbled briefly, but Tim never let her go. "Don' think, Rowan." She met his gaze, but wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly over the roar of the music and merriment.

"What?"

He locked eyes with her, grinning. "Don' think."

"I can't-"

"Ziva." She felt a shiver go up her spine as his lips brushed her ear. "Don' think. Trus' me."

Their gazes locked. "I trust you."