Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Thanks to Sazzita for reviewing 22, 24, 26 and 27; mcgeeksgirl and gypsymooneysgirl7733 for reviewing 27; Reader for reviewing 22, 23, 24, 25, 26 and 27.

Oh-four-hundred.

Sighing, he slipped out of bed and headed into the kitchen, after glancing back towards the bed.

She was by far the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

As she had started to go to the guest bedroom, he'd grabbed her hand, tugging her gently towards his room. Nothing had happened; they had settled down, talking softly until sleep took them both. But this was new, for both of them, despite the fact that they had a child. Eight years had passed, and they were in uncharted, unfamiliar territory. Despite moving in together, they were going to take things slow, until they were certain rekindling that flame that had been forcefully extinguished was what was right. They had to focus on Asher first, he was their son. He was their first priority.

After fixing a cup of tea, he took a seat on the sofa, turning on the table lamp and picking up another letter. These were Ziva's thoughts, the wild questions that had been running around her head eight years ago, when she was pregnant. These were the very things she was facing and dealing with as their baby grew inside her. He picked up another letter; he'd read through most of them by the time he got to the one that was obviously the turning point in her young life.

"'Tim,

I can no longer hide it. They know.

They all know that your child is growing inside me. Tali discovered it, and rushed to Ima. I am only five months along, and my belly is small, but noticeable. I am no longer a member of my own family, and I have been moved to the house I was born in. Ima, Ari and Tali will look after me when I can, although, I fear that I shall be alone for most of my pregnancy.

How I wish you were with me.

-Ziva'"

The letter was short, but spoke volumes as to Eli David's treatment of his daughter. He sighed, mentally kicking himself for not being there when she needed him most. But there was nothing he could have done; his own father had made sure that he was on the next flight back to the States as soon as he found out. After trying to beat him to death, of course. Sipping his tea, he picked up another letter, and began to read.

"'Tim,

I am only a week away from giving birth, and I have never been so terrified in my entire life. I need you here by my side to welcome our son into the world when he comes, but I know that is not possible. All I can do is dream, and keep you in my heart.

I am sure you would not recognize me, were we to meet again. I do not recognize myself when I look in the mirror. My belly is big and round, so big that my fingers do not touch when I place them beneath my belly. Our son does not move as much anymore, for which I am grateful. But it is awfully uncomfortable, and I spend most of my time reading or dreaming of you. On the rare occasions that I do stand before the mirror, I am surprised by the changes I have gone through- I can no longer see my feet, and Tali says that I waddle like a duck going to the pond when I walk. My navel pokes out and there are stretch marks that run from below my belly upward. Ima has told me that most women wear them like a badge of honor, but that I cannot understand. It is not only my belly that has changed. My breasts have grown as well, and have begun to leak. According to what I have read and what Ima has told me, my body is preparing for when our baby will breastfeed. I do not know whether to be relieved or terrified.

I want him to come, because I want to hold him, and to stare into his beautiful little face and count his ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. I want this to be over with, so that I know this was not all for nothing. I want to know that you gave me this little boy for a reason, but right now... right now, I do not know.

All I know is that I want you here; I want us to be a family. Forever.

-Ziva'"

He set the letter down and picked up the stack of photographs. As he looked through each, he felt tears begin to well into his eyes. Various images, depicting her in various stages of her pregnancy, some with her mother, some with her sister, but all giving him an insight into the woman sound asleep in his bed. He stopped on one- an image of her standing at the window, hands caressing her belly, lost in thought. She appeared to be only about halfway through her pregnancy, but the image was no less beautiful, no less stunning. It spoke volumes to the simple loneliness she'd faced those nine months as their son was growing inside her, how she had turned to her daydreams and fantasies of their reunion.

Tim looked up when Ziva entered the living room, a cup of tea in her hands. "What are you-" She stopped, gaze landing on the photograph he was studying. It was one she recognized instantly- it was Asher, just after birth and held against her chest; a tender, beautiful first image of mother and child. He reached out, squeezing her hand before picking up another letter and unfolding it. It was short, only seven words that brought tears to his eyes.

"'Tim,

He is here. And he is perfect.

- Ziva'"