Rifiuto: Non Mirena
"You really don't mind my family staying for the next couple of weeks, Tim?"
"Why would I, they're family."
"I just... I don't want you to get stressed. You've been doing so well-"
"But I'm not where I should be. I don't have the memories that matter the most." She turned to him as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed. "You, our marriage, our son."
"Tim, I love you. And I know those are important to you, but they will come in time. We need to focus on the now, and on the future." She rested her chin against his shoulder, sliding her arm around his bicep. "And our little Amal." She rubbed her belly. "Because he is our present and our future at the moment. Those memories will come, ahuva, you just need to give them time to find each other and surface. Okay?" He sighed, nodding. "I love you."
He met her gaze. "I love you, too."
A smile broke out across her face, and she leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling back against the pillows she'd taken to sleeping against since her twenty-eighth week. Tim sighed, joining her, stretching out beside her, a hand going to belly; Ziva reached down, covering his hand with hers.
He awoke two hours later; for once, his wife was getting a good sleep, and after a moment, he slipped out of bed. He slipped downstairs with Amal's baby book, taking a seat on the sofa with a cup of tea, flipping through it. Images of his son, of his wife as their baby boy grew with him looked up at him, snapshots that showed the progression of his son's development through his mother's expanding middle-
You'll never regain those memories back. They're gone for good. And why would you want them back anyway? You have a son that is going to be born in ten weeks- memories that will replace the ones you lost.
He flipped to the current page. Ziva stared up at him, a smile on her face, one hand beneath her growing breasts, the other beneath her growing belly. She was glowing, that pregnancy glow talked about shining through as she stood in nothing but his sweats and her bra. A moment passed before he shut the book, setting it on the table.
"Tim?" He looked up as Ziva came into the living room, hands on her back, belly leading the way.
"What are you doing up, sweetheart? You were finally getting some sleep-"
"Had to pee again. When I came back, I realized you weren't in bed, so I... came down here." She slowly lowered herself to the sofa beside him, taking a deep breath. "Talk to me, ahuva. What's wrong?" He shook his head, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Slowly, Ziva reached up, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Hmm? Tim, talk to me, please. Tell me what's wrong."
His gaze darted to the baby book, and he picked it up, opening it to the current week. Ziva leaned close, hand rubbing her belly. "I just... keep thinking."
"About what?"
"The accident." He met her gaze. "I don't remember it-"
"Did you ever consider that maybe that's a good thing, that you don't remember it? That it might be too painful, and so that's why you don't remember?"
"But if that's so, then why don't I remember our wedding day, or the night our son was conceived, or... the first four years of our marriage? Are those painful too?"
"No, not at all. They're beautiful, wonderful amazing memories."
"Then why can't I remember them? When can't I remember the night we conceived Amal? I watch videos, I see photographs, I listen to stories, but none of it comes back. Ziva, what if I never get those memories back? What... what if this accident changed me- and not for the better, but for the worse? I don't remember those first four years- for all I know, I could have been abusive, neglectful-"
She reached up, taking his face in her hands. "Abusive and neglectful are the last things you are, Timothy. That's not who you were before the accident, and that's not who you are now. That is the type of person you will never be, Tim. You are kind, and gentle, and good. And beautiful. And you... have made me a wife, you've given me a home to call mine, and..." She choked on a sob, her emotions getting the better of her. "and you've given me a baby boy that is... the most active, most... amazing gift I could ever hope to receive."
He reached up, brushing a tear off her cheek. "But... I'm not the man you remember-"
"You're still the man I fell in love with. That will never change. Accident, amnesia or no. You will always be the man I fell in love with."
"Ziva-"
She rested her forehead to his. "You are the father of my son, and you have done everything possible to be a father, even though you have no memory of the little boy growing inside me."
"Ziva-"
But she thumbed his bottom lip, her mouth brushing against his gently. She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. Tim slid an arm around her waist, his other hand resting against his wife's belly. "I-"
"I love you, too, Timothy." She breathed, meeting his gaze. "I love you so much." She reached down, covering his hand with hers. A moment passed before she pressed firmly on his hand, and the baby kicked in response. The two broke apart at another sharp kick, and both chuckled softly. "See, sweetheart? Amal loves you, too. Because you're his daddy."