Rifiuto: Non Mirena
Thanks to MusicWithinMe and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 27.
As soon as the door to the study shut behind them, Ziva and Tali were in the hallway, listening intently, both ignoring their parents' scolding. The girls were desperate to hear the conversation-
"You canna do tha'!"
"I can an' I will! I'm yer moth'r!"
"Ye're nothin' bu' th' woman who gave birth t' us! Mrs. Dav'd is ten times more a moth'r t' us than ye've ev'r been, Kathleen!"
The sharpness of flesh met flesh, and silence fell for several minutes before,
"How dare you speak t' me like that, Sarah Aileen! I'm yer moth'r!"
"You aren't our mother! The only thing ye are is are the woman who brought us into this world! Tha' is it! You stopped being our mother the day you put us on that plane for Israel! Rivka became our moth'r th' day they picked us up at th' airport! She has always been our mother-"
"Ye don' know wha' ye're talkin' 'bout, Timothy!"
"She will always be our mother!" Both girls quickly scurried back as the door to the study opened and Tim stormed out, Kathleen following; John had managed to calm Sarah down enough that the two were having a fairly decent conversation. Eli turned his attention away from the window, and Rivka was drawn away from the coffee she was fixing in the kitchen.
"Timothy, please! We need t' talk-"
"We don't need to talk, Kathleen!" He snapped, yanking his arm out of her grasp when she reached for him.
"Ye're me son."
His emerald gaze darkened. "I'm not your son. I don't know you, I've never known you- either of you!"
Kathleen bit her lip, taking a deep breath. "Things will be bett'r once we go back t' Ir'land. You will see; 'twill be better when we retu'n t' Belfas'."
"What? What do you mean when we 'return to Belfast'? What the hell are you planning?" Tim glanced over Kathleen's shoulder to see his sister come out of the study, John behind her, silent.
"Sarah!" The Irish beauty looked up as Eli moved away from the window, in case things turned physical. He could see the red mark on the girl's cheek, and his blood boiled. Kathleen turned to the girl; she glanced at John, pleading silently with him to back her up, but he held up his hands in surrender.
"'tis no' our place, Kathleen. We los' tha' hon'r fifteen years ago; 'tis th' Dav'd's place now. No' ours."
"You canna say tha', John. Ye 'ave waited a decade in tha' jail in Belfas' while th' courts drug their blast'd feet pickin' yer case up, an' now-" She held up her arms. "I waited ten years f'r ye t' ge' ou' sos we cou'd come ge' our kids, an' now ye jus'... wan' t' leave 'em 'ere?" But he kept quiet, glancing at Rivka and Eli. Kathleen, refusing to accept her husband's silence as acquiescence, turned back to her son. In an attempt to calm her temper, Kathleen took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "I jus'... want us t' be a family 'gain, Timothy. Th' way we were before we sen' you an' Sarah away." Her son rolled his eyes, and Sarah snorted. "An' we canna do tha' 'ere, in this... God-forsaken land, among these..." She swallowed. "heathens."
Ziva started, glancing at her sister. Had she... heard right? Had Mrs. McGee really just called her family heathens? She moved towards the woman, but Tali got her arm, nodding that Tim was taking care of it.
"Ah... did you just... did you just call our family... heathens?"
"'twas no' thinkin', Timothy-"
"No, you weren't!" He snapped, stepping towards her. "They are not heathens! No one in Israel is! They are good, kind, hardworking people! How dare you! How dare you call them heathens! Do you know anything about Israel besides what the Bible tells you? Do you watch the news, or are you just stupid?"
"Hey! Timothy!" Eli grabbed the younger man around the shoulders as he advanced on his birth mother, stopping him in his tracks. The younger man struggled for several minutes, before Eli's deep, calm voice began to penetrate the anger in his mind. "Easy, ben, easy." Tim fought against him briefly. "Shh. Hirgi'a, Timothy. You need to calm down." Seconds passed, before Eli released him, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him gently words the door. "Go take a walk, Timothy. Clear your head."
The young Mossad agent glanced back at the others, before shaking his head and continuing to the door. Kathleen, unwilling to let him leave without making him understand moved to hurry after him, but Eli stopped her. "He needs to cool off, Mrs. McGee." She glanced at Eli before turning back to her son.
"Tim-"
The younger man in question stopped, turning back to them. "I am only going to say this once, Kathleen. Do you understand? Once! You are not our mother! You have no say over our lives! None! We are not your children! We are your spawn, nothing more!" He then turned, grabbing his light jacket and leaving; the door slammed closed behind him. It was silent for several minutes, before Rivka set her cup down and made her way to the door, stopping Ziva in her tracks.
"Let me go, Zivaleh." Slowly, her daughter nodded, and Rivka brushed a kiss to her cheek. She then grabbed her own light jacket and slipped out of the house. She had a feeling that she knew exactly where Tim was headed. The young man wasn't one to head to a bar or aimlessly wander around Tel Aviv when he was upset. No, when Tim was upset, there was only one place that ever seemed to calm his rampant, Irish temper.
