Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Week Thirty-One

"Tim, Ziva, this book is beautiful. You've done an amazing job."

"Toda, Ima." Ziva looked up as Tim settled beside her, allowing her to lay on the sofa against him.

After breakfast, they'd taken the photograph and then added it to the baby book. Tali had then snatched the camera from her brother-in-law, and was now sitting on the edge of the coffee table, the camera pointed at her sister's belly. Tali watched her sister sigh as she unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged out of the article of clothing, dropping it to the floor. It really didn't bother any of them that Ziva was in nothing but a bra and a pair of sweats, her bulging stomach completely exposed; sexuality and pregnancy went hand in hand, and it was common in Israel for expecting women to bare their growing tummies around family in Israel. But that was the last thing Ziva was thinking of; for her, no shirt meant comfort, especially regarding the state she was in.

"Our doctor says he's shifted, so he's no longer head down." Tali bit her lip, a twinge of envy tugging at her heart as she watched her sister rub a hand over her belly, before resting her hands just below her breasts. Ziva lay still for several minutes, before reaching down, pressing her fingers against her side.

"Not uncommon with babies. He'll be back to head down soon, don't worry." Rivka replied, undoing some more yarn.

"Rivka, I think Timothy and Ziva have enough baby clothes to last them the next fifty years. They don't need any more." She glared at him.

"This is our first grandchild, Eli David, and if you think that baby is going to go for want of anything, you-"

Ziva tilted her head back, looking up at her husband. "Right here." He cocked his head to the side, as she pressed against her side again. "His head is right here." She grabbed her husband's hand, resting it against the bulge in the side of her stomach. "You feel that?" He nodded. "That's his head."

"Do you know how you're going to birth?" Malachi asked, as he joined Tali on the coffee table; Rivka and Eli were sitting together, arguing softly about the number of booties she was making for their own grandchild. Ziva sighed, gently pushing her palm up the side of her stomach. She then ran her hand over her belly.

"Natural. No meds and no epidurals." She groaned, feeling him kick, and continued rubbing both hands over her stomach. "Come on, ahuva. Move anywhere but near my ribs."

"There isn't going to be much space for him to move, Zivaleh." Rivka said, finally setting her crochet down and joining her children. Eli followed, perching on the arm of the chair. Ziva tilted her head back to look at her parents.

"Well, there may not be room, but he's still moving. He's very, very active, our little Amal."

"Amal? That's his name?" Ziva nodded, glancing at her sister.

"Yeah. It means 'hope.' It's..." She sighed, rubbing her stomach in quick circles. "it's perfect for him, because he is what kept me believing that Tim would come out of his coma. And he did." She looked up at her husband. "A little battered, a little amnesia, but still the man I married." She leaned up, kissing him quickly before pulling away. "Oh, that's my rib cage." She hissed. "Damn it, Amal, how many times have I asked you not to kick me there?"

Rivka chuckled. "Babies don't follow their mother's orders in the womb, Zivaleh. They do as they wish. If you get bruised or hurt in the process, they really don't care."

"Yeah, I've started to realize that-" She suddenly sat up.

"Ziva? What's wrong?"

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Move, move!" Tali got up, scrambling out of the way as her sister rushed out of the living room. The downstairs bathroom door slammed minutes later, and Rivka chuckled.

"I remember those days. Constantly having to go to the bathroom, up and down, night and day for weeks. And then she was born, and holding her in my arms showed me it was worth it." She glanced at her youngest daughter, who had turned off the camera when Ziva got up. "That they both were."

Tali gave her mother a small smile, excusing herself to head to the kitchen. There was something she wanted to ask her brother-in-law without her parents overhearing, because God knew they'd tell her she was being insensitive to the situation. But she needed to know, otherwise it'd drive her crazy. She found him filling the kettle and placing it on the stove, turning the burner on. "Hey, Tim?"

He looked up, startled momentarily. "Hey, Tali. Thank you for videoing that for us today. We've been doing it ourselves, but... it was nice, getting to hold my wife for once."

She smiled at him. "No problem. Um... does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?"

"Not having your memories of your marriage to my sister?" He stopped, thinking.

"Yes, on some level, it does. Because there are stories she'll tell me that I have no memory of, that I may never get back. Why?"

She shrugged. "Just curious." He nodded, before feeling small her arms going around his neck from behind. She squeezed gently. Tali had felt an instant connection with the young agent when Ziva had brought him home to meet them that first trip to Israel. She'd seen a younger version of Ari, though with his own attributes- because, unlike Ari, who, while he loved Tali and protected her, didn't really listen to her opinions, though he respected them, he just didn't have the time to listen, being constantly on call as a doctor. But Tim- Tim had taken the time out to listen to her, and talk with her. "Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"For what it's worth," He glanced back at her. "I'm glad you married Ziva." Then, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and slipped out of the kitchen.