Rifiuto: Non Mirena
Tel Aviv,
Israel
She lay stretched out on the bed in her old room, studying the ring Tim had pressed into her hand before he left; she didn't exactly want to listen to the conversation taking place in the living room. One hand wandered down to rest over her stomach, and her heart clenched in ache.
I would gladly leave Mossad, if he had left a piece of himself within me.
She sniffled softly, reminding herself that such a thing was not going to happen, not until they were both ready and free of Mossad. As it currently stood, they were both far too immature to raise a child, despite the fact that they were living together on their own, and were doing fairly well at it. Though it was evident to both Tim and Ziva that Rivka desperately wanted grandbabies, she wasn't willing to allow them the chance to create them until they were fully settled and married- or, as Eli interpreted his wife- out of Mossad, permanently.
The problem is, Ima, you are lucky if you leave Mossad sans the body bag.
It was common knowledge in the agency that most agents didn't live to long- many were lucky to see thirty; those that lived past thirty were considered walking miracles. She and Tim-
Tim had turned twenty-five a week earlier, and she was barely twenty-three. The chances of either reaching thirty were slim to none in their profession; the chances they'd live long enough to resign or quit or get fired- which would never happen with Eli as director- and therefore marry, settle down and make babies, was next to impossible. If they didn't get captured, they'd end up killed, a typical ending for an agent or officer in their line of work.
A sigh escaped her throat as she ran her fingers over the ring again; studying the beautiful Celtic design. Two hands, clasping a heart with a crown atop it between them- a Claddagh ring, if she remembered Tim telling her once.
Love, loyalty and friendship.
Everything their relationship was about.
After a moment, she sat up, climbing off the bed and going to her bookshelf; it took a few minutes, before she found the book she wanted and returned, flipping it open and searching until she found what she wanted. A soft knock stopped her research, and she looked up as Tali poked her head in. "Hey, at beseder?" The older girl met her gaze, nodding silently.
"Missing Tim, but... other than that, ken, I am okay, Tali."
The girl slipped into the room, joining her on the bed. "You heard Abba today. It will only be for a year at most; besides, Tim will not change that much in a year, and he loves you, Ziva. He is going to come back and you are going to marry him and once you both leave Mossad, you are going to make beautiful, beautiful babies together."
Ziva pulled away as her sister tried to continue stroking her hair. "Why is everyone so insistent that Tim and I make babies?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "With our professions, we may not even live to get engaged, let alone marry and start a family."
"You do not... want to have a family with Tim?" She looked up, meeting her sister's gaze.
"Of course I do, Tali. I want to have a baby with Tim so badly I..." She stopped. "But... Mossad officers do not get married, and they certainly do not start families because they do not live long enough to start them."
"Yuval Aviv was married and he had a daughter while he worked for Mossad during Mivtza Za'am Ha'el after members of the Israeli Olympic team were massacred in Munich, and that was in the seventies. And Abba- he married Ima when he was an agent and... he had us. He and Ima took Tim and Sarit in when he was still going out on missions. It can be done, Ziva. Officers and agents can get married and they can have babies while still working in Mossad. Unless..." She met her sister's gaze. "You cannot... did you..."
"No! Both Tim and I are clean! Besides, we have only been with each other. I just..." She sighed, laying back among the pillows. "I want a family so badly with Tim that I can taste it. But what if he is not back when the year is up? What if he is gone for two years, or three years? Or... forever? One day my chance to have children with him is going to end, and then what?"
"Oh, Ziva! That is ridiculous! You are only twenty-three! When you are Tim's age, then you can start worrying. And... if he does not come back by the end of his year in America, then..." The younger girl stopped, thinking. "I give you permission to hunt him down and lock him away in a bedroom and make as many babies as you can together." Her sister chuckled, reaching up and pulling her close. "Feel better?"
"Ken, toda, Tali."
The sisters shared a quick kiss, before Tali got up, slipping out of the room. "Al lo davar, Ziva. Khalomot metukim."
"Gam lach." Once she was gone, Ziva sat up, turning her attention back to the book. She flipped through the book, until she found the page she was searching for on Claddagh rings.
"'... handed down... in the way a Claddagh ring is worn with the intention of conveying relationship...'" She glanced at the ring her hand, Tim's words coming back to her.
Remember the four things I told you.
She turned her attention back to the book, glancing back and forth between the ring and the page as she read.
"'On the right hand, point of the heart towards the fingertips, single and looking for love. On the right hand with the point of the heart towards wrist, in a relationship.'" She slid it on her right ring finger, turned the way it was described in the book. But the awkward position of the ring on her dominant hand forced her to remove it. "'On the left hand, point towards wrist, married.'" She glanced at the ring again. "And 'on the left hand, point towards fingertips, engaged.' Huh." She studied the ring for several minutes, before slipping it onto her left ring finger, the tip towards her nails. Yes, that definitely felt better.
As she put the book back and slipped under the covers, pressing a kiss to the ring, she had no idea of the chaos such a simple action would unleash within her family.
