Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Here's a little bit of a twist on the 200th episode.
She curled up on the bed, Tim's wedding ring held tight in her fist. She reached over, grabbing his pillow and holding it close, burying her nose in it, and inhaling his familiar scent. Fresh, hot tears began rolling down her cheeks, and she choked on a sob, his words ringing her head.
"You'd be in so deep in Mossad that you wouldn't be able to get out."
It had been her worst fear, being trapped in Mossad, like her father had hoped. Being so deep within the organization he ran that Asher would be left vulnerable, available for her father to get his hands on. And then, God only knew what Eli would do to her son.
Kill him, most likely. Eradicate the very thing that had turned his daughter against him. And destroy his middle child in the process.
She choked on a sob, burying her face deeper in her husband's pillow, breathing in his scent, until the familiar, comforting smell lulled her into a fitful sleep.
The house was quiet; so quiet it set her on edge. No longer was there the sound of laughter, of small feet rushing to greet her as she came home. Her father had destroyed that, taking the one thing that had kept her sane, kept her free from his chokehold. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the stuffed teddy bear her sister had given her the day that tiny miracle had come into her life. She dropped the stuffed animal, before picking up her bags and leaving the house.
She shifted, her eyes slowly opening. The sunlight had lulled her to sleep, and the sound a door closing had awoken her. A moment passed, and she shifted onto her other side, holding Tim's pillow close. A part of her mind told her to go see who or what had slammed the door, the other half told her to stay put, and so she burrowed closer to her husband's pillow, digging her nails into the skin around the ring she held in her palm. Eventually, she let the sun on her back lull her back to sleep.
Her gaze moved up, and she studied the agents as she was brought to Interrogation. The woman wore a white lab coat over some strange schoolgirl uniform, with high platform shoes and her black hair in pigtails. She had a strange tattoo on her neck, and she hid behind who appeared to be the older agent, the one with the blue eyes. He obviously bore the scars of war, mental and emotional, but over time, had turned from war veteran to Team Leader. And then there was the doctor and his young assistant, the senior agent, with his teasing hazel eyes and the ring he bore on his hand, signifying a marriage. But her gaze only lingered on each one- until she got to the junior agent.
It was his green eyes that caught her, that caused her pause. But before she could study him further, she was shoved into Interrogation and chained to the table. She didn't have to wait long for someone to join her, after the guard left. And just as she'd hoped, it was him.
He shut the door softly behind him, studying her silently, as she studied him. Something about him was familiar, comforting almost. She smirked as she noticed his green eyes rove up and down her body, drinking her in with a look that spoke volumes of the fact that he was just as familiar with her as she with him.
Yes, he recognized her, too. But he couldn't remember where he'd seen her. Not from the wanted posters, but from another time- a time long before NCIS. But he couldn't place where, or who she was, of the significance of their previous meeting.
"I remember you... Riva?" He shook his head. "No, Visa... no, no... Tiva."
"Ziva." She replied, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she tossed her head. "My name is Ziva David." He nodded, stopping in front of the table, pulling the chair out and taking a seat across from her.
"Oh, yeah, Ziva. Now I remember. The icy Israeli. I followed you to a hotel pool once."
"Clearly I made an impression. But that is not what I was referring to, Timothy." He raised an eyebrow.
"Where else, Ziva, would I have met you? And how the hell, do you know me?" He growled, leaning close. She let her gaze drift down to his lips, before meeting those green eyes. She longed to taste his kiss again, to feel his touch, to have him join with her like they had done those short years ago. She would give anything to turn back time and do things differently, if she could just look into the those innocent green eyes again and not see the hatred that so clearly shown in the man's before her. She would give her life to have those beautiful green depths back, to look at her in love, like that had done every day from the moment he came into her life.
"In Israel." She whispered. "At an embassy dinner, when we were teenagers our parents forced us to attend. We snuck off together, went back to my family's apartment," She leaned close, as close as the cuffs would allow, and searched his face. "and we made love, all night long."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd remember a night like that, with a woman like you."
"You do. You just do not want to. But we made love; I remember because I screamed your name and you screamed mine, and then in the morning, our parents ripped us apart." He rolled his eyes, not believing her tricks.
"I'm not playing any of your games." He replied, getting up to go.
"We conceived that night." That stopped him from pulling the door open, and she knew he was listening. "You left me with a baby boy." She took a deep breath, tossing her head as he turned back to her.
"I'm sorry?" She met his gaze.
"You gave me a son."
"And where is this boy now?" He asked, returning to the table and resting both hands on it, leaning towards her until they were nose to nose. She took a deep breath, reaching into the sleeve of her shirt. Wrapped around her wrist was a necklace with a heart-shaped locket on the end. She opened it and set it before him. A moment passed, before he picked it up, studying the image of the child inside.
"Dead." She replied, looking up at him. "He is dead. I came home one day to find him shot, bullet through the head. My father's work. He took our son from me." But he dropped the locket on the table before her and pushed himself away from the table, whispering,
"He's not my son." Then, without a word, he was gone.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up, struggling to get air into her lungs.
