Rifiuto: Non Mirena

He stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, studying his reflection. Ziva was curled up on the sofa downstairs, taking a nap, which left Tim with plenty of time to think.

Thrown through a windshield, you were thrown through a windshield... how the fuck did you survive that? People don't generally survive something like that!

Guilt clogged his throat; guilt at leaving Ziva alone for three months while he resided in that coma, for putting such stress on her, for scaring her like he did...

You didn't have a choice, you slipped into a coma. People don't just randomly slip into comas because they feel like it. You did so your body could heal, so you would be there for that little boy growing in her belly. And even though you don't remember him, that's why you did it- just like why you alerted that mother that night. Your instincts were kicking in, even back then, before that baby even started growing.

His gaze moved over his reflection. Slowly, he reached up, brushing his hair back as he leaned forward. He could just make out the puckered line of a scar running over his head, where they'd peeled back the skin and cut his skull open to relieve the swelling. If he ran his fingers through his hair, he could feel it; a war wound unseen, but there nonetheless.

Just be fucking grateful you didn't end up on Ducky's autopsy table between Kate and Cassidy.

Yeah, there was that.

Or in the freezer, with Lee in the upper right corner, Director Shepard to your lower left, Franks on your upper left, and Pacci on your lower right with you smack in the middle. Not exactly ideal bedfellows, but then again, they'd probably be better than Ziva. At least none of them snore.

He sighed, lifting his head, noticing the jagged scar that ran down his neck- Ziva had said something about them having to open his throat and fix the tube they'd inserted in his throat because he'd begun to hemorrhage thanks to the damage to his body and blood had come up the tube-

Could be worse- they could have shredded your throat... or destroyed your vocal chords, but then again, the doctors at Bethesda are the best on the East coast.

His hands then moved down his chest, fingers trailing over a good-sized scar on his chest.

Jesus, how much damage did that accident actually do? Um, hello! You were hit head on by a truck at a hundred twenty miles an hour! You went through the windshield of your car, and from what Ziva was told, into the windshield of the truck that hit you! You're bound to look like Frankenstein after something like that.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest- the same heart that had stopped beating twice on the operating table. And while he was in surgery, Ziva had sat out in the waiting room, pregnant with his child and sick with worry, terrified that she was going to lose both her husband and her baby in one night. Thank God Gibbs had come with her, thank God she wasn't in the car.

Though he still looked like himself, just... with little differences here and there. The green of his eyes were still the same, the dimples of his cheeks were still there when he smiled, the slope of his nose was still exactly as it had been... traits that that baby growing inside Ziva might very well possess by the time he entered the world-

But how will he react as he gets older, when he sees the scars on your body, the remnants of the damage done from that accident? Sure, she doesn't care, she loves you- has always loved you- but that baby... he's growing inside your wife's belly, he can't see either of you, though you can see him on the sonograms. And though he probably won't care after he's first born- well, eventually, he's going to care, and he's going to ask, and you're going to have to answer. Can you really do that? Can you really explain why you're such a monster, in simple terms, to a tiny little boy?

He took a deep breath, turning the cold water in the faucet on full blast and sticking his head under it. Though it shocked his system, it did nothing to dampen the doubt clouding his mind, and when he looked up again, catching the drops as they fell from his chin, he realized that everything ringing in his head was true.

I love that little boy... I... I'm learning to love him... he won't care how I look... oh yes he will. A boy's father is very important to him... but what little boy would want to spend time with Frankenstein's creation, even if the creature is his father?

He quickly left the bathroom, pulling on a shirt and then grabbing his coat before slipping downstairs. He heard Ziva stretch and sit up, but ignored her. "Tim?" It took her a few minutes, and after some minor difficulty, she got up, meeting him in the foyer. "What are you-"

"Going for a walk."

"Do you want me to come?" He stopped, hand on the door knob. Something flashed in his eyes, as he met her gaze, and after a moment,

"No. Need to clear my head."

"Tim-" He stopped, as she grabbed his wrist. "If this is about... you are still the same man I fell in love with and married, the accident doesn't change that."

He studied her. "Actually, it does. And I'm not the man you married. I don't know what the hell happened to him or where he went, but he's gone. And I don't know if he's ever coming back." He pulled away, shutting the door behind him. A few minutes later, Ziva heard the car start, and she rushed into the living room, grabbing the phone. With shaky fingers, she dialed the only number she could think of, of the only person who knew Tim as well as she did.

"Sarah? Sarah, he.. he's gone... I... I told him... about the accident... and he left..."