Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Twenty-Three

She took a deep breath, hands moving down to cradle her belly.

"So do you want me to take the photo or not?"

Her gaze moved up; Tim was leaning against the door frame, the camera in his hands. Ziva had taken Sarah's advice, involving him in as much as she could that regarded the baby, and they found themselves spending evenings lying together in bed discussing what they'd read- for Ziva had started reading What to Expect not long after Tim ended up in the coma; reading a chapter a day to him when she went to visit, explaining the changes that were taking place within her as the baby grew, not that she expected him to remember what she read, but it brought a comfort, knowing that in some small way, she was involving her husband in the process of their baby forming.

Slowly, she lifted her head, reaching out for him. He didn't move from the door, but his gaze did dart towards her hand. Although they slept in the same bed- for Ziva had convinced him that she wanted his presence near her while she slept- he didn't touch her, didn't reach out or hold her. And she took it, understanding why he was acting so distant. She understood, she really did, but still, it hurt. But all she could do was give it time, and hope he began to regain the memories.

Both Gibbs and Vance had given them the next two weeks off with pay, seeing that Ziva needed her husband home as much as Tim needed to be home right now. And for that, Ziva was eternally grateful to both men.

"Yeah, if you would."

He nodded and stepped back; she followed, silent. By the time they reached the living room- the lighting was better- Ziva was ready to pin him down and force him to hold her, but she kept her distance.

Deer in the headlights, deer in the headlights. Remember? You approach him cautiously unless you want to spook him.

"So... where do you want this done?" She looked around, before moving to stand beside the curtained window.

"Here, okay?"

"Sure." She stood close to the wall in nothing but a bra and a pair of stretch yoga pants, hands resting on her hips; the swell was noticeable now, as were her growing breasts. The very petite Israeli had gone from a thirty-two A to a thirty-two D in five short months, and to be honest, she was worried about after the baby was born. From what she'd read, a woman's breasts continued to grow even after birth, thanks to the milk coming in. "You ready for me?" He nodded, and she sighed, taking a deep breath, her hands moving to cradle her belly between them. "Did it turn out okay?"

He joined her, pulling the photos up on the screen, and she smiled softly, meeting his gaze. "They turned out fine." She met his gaze, noticing the small smile on his face as he studied the photographs.

Without a word, and before she could stop herself, Ziva rose quickly on her toes, pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek. "Toda, Tim. Thank you so much for doing this, for me and Amal."

He started, green eyes widening in surprise briefly before he met her gaze. "Ah... s... sure. No... no problem."

Until then, they'd avoided contact; Ziva was terrified of pushing him too far, and Tim was unsure of how to approach the woman he was supposed to love, the woman who was carrying a baby he didn't remember conceiving with her. Ziva, thankfully noticing how nervous her actions made him, quickly moved away. "So... should we print them and... add them to the book?" He nodded, following her into the kitchen and taking a seat beside her at the table, where the baby's book lay, open and waiting to be worked on. A number of scrapbook items lay scattered about the table- little cutout letters and numbers, stickers and markers and various other things used for scrap-booking.

He studied the page before them; in cutout letters across the top were the words,

Twenty-three Weeks!

Ima is halfway through her pregnancy with me!

But I still have a lot of growing to go...

He looked up as Ziva joined him, the printed photographs in her hands that she laid down on the page. "What do you think?" She pointed to the first one. "This one?" He studied the photographs before flipping back a few pages.

"The second one." He replied, dropping the other pages and turning back to the page at hand. She thought a moment, before nodding.

"Okay." It was silent, Ziva watched as Tim picked up and gently laid the photo beneath the words. He met her gaze.

"What next?" She sighed, thinking. She was so used to doing this without Tim that sadly she was drawing a blank. He waited, propping his elbow on the table and resting his head on his hand. "Can't think of anything?" She shook her head.

"Well, what do you want to add?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Amal is your son as much as he is mine."

"But what do you put in a baby book when you don't remember making the baby?" He whispered, lowering his hand to the table. His wife sighed.

"Well, is there anything exciting about the pregnancy that you want to tell him about? Maybe... what it was like being at my appointment or... or seeing the nursery or-"

"No. I mean... it's fascinating, but... babies are made every day. And this could just be the... logic side of my brain but... I just... don't find your pregnancy all that interesting... and that could be because I wasn't there the first three months because of the coma... and for that I'm sorry, and I don't mean to be-"

"Blunt?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Look, I don't want to hurt you, but... what makes your pregnancy so special?"

Ziva opened her mouth to speak, but stopped, realizing that, on some level, what he was saying was right.