Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Thanks to mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 38, DS2010 for reviewing 40, 41 and 42, and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 39, 40, 41 and 42.

Ziva settled back against the pillows of their bed, her hands moving slowly over her belly. She glanced over at her husband, who was propped up on his elbow, watching her, a soft smile on his face. "What is it?" He shook his head. While Tim had pulled on a pair of boxers and pajama bottoms after they'd gotten out of the bath, Ziva wore nothing but a pair of underwear; the sports bra she normally wore to bed had gotten to be too uncomfortable. And with her breasts now leaking and exceedingly tender, the last thing she wanted on was something that would only be painful.

"I noticed you were watching our wedding video again. Did anything come back?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "No. And... I don't know how many times I've watched it, and it always come up with the same result. No memory of it. Just... video that I can watch, but no actual memories of the day you became my wife."

She sighed, understanding how frustrated Tim must be getting at being unable to recall memories of their life together. She turned her attention back to her stomach as Amal kicked hard against her ribs, and after a moment, she sat up. Gently, she rubbed her hands over her belly, occasionally pressing gently to get their son to move if he'd stopped. Although stopping was the last thing he seemed to be doing; the sound of his father's voice caused the baby to quicken his movements, until he was soon pedaling against to top of his mother's stomach. The couple watched in shared silence as their son moved within her, Ziva's hands moving gently to rub the spot where his feet were.

Tim chuckled softly as Amal seemed to scurry away from his mother's touch, and after a moment, Ziva gently pressed on either side of her belly, moving upwards before rubbing in slow circles. She pressed against the skin, hoping to get a reaction from the baby, to no avail. "Come on, ahuva, you're always moving-"

"Here, let me try." Tim sat up, moving to sit beside his wife. Ziva raised an eyebrow, but lowered her hands, humming softly in contentment as her husband's fingers gently moved over her belly-

The baby kicked, hard.

"Oh." She looked at her husband before turning back to her belly. "Oh, I get it. You'll kick for Daddy but you won't kick for me?" She waited, reaching down and brushing her fingers over her belly; they brushed against Tim's, lacing together and squeezing quickly. Tim broke the hold, gently patting her belly, which received another good, hard kick. "Unbelievable." Ziva turned to her husband. "He is definitely your son, Timothy." She shook her head, turning her attention back to the swell before her. "Do you like Abba's touch, Amal? Is that it? Does Abba touch you differently than I do?"

Another round of pedaling started, and Ziva groaned softly in both annoyance and pain. "Your only doing that to let us know you're still o-"

"It hurts when he does that- that does not mean you have to keep doing that, Amal McGee!" Her husband chuckled softly, before he continued rubbing her stomach. The baby only briefly stopped moving and his mother sighed in annoyance. "I don't mean to snap, but it does hurt. It's because my skin is growing thinner, so his kicks and movements are stronger than they were before. I can feel them better."

"Well he certainly likes to move, that's for sure."

Ziva chuckled softly. "From the moment we conceived him, he hasn't stop moving. Even when he was a tiny little bean of a baby he was active and moving and... Jeanne could never get a good view of him on the sonogram because he moved around so much. Honestly, I'm surprised he allows her to get good shots of him now, he's such an active little boy." She gently patted the top of her belly, feeling him kick in response. "Aren't you, ahuva? You're the most active little boy I think I've ever known." A sigh escaped her throat as she gently stroked her thumb over the top of her belly, glancing at her husband. "What are you thinking about, ahuva?"

Tim sighed, shaking his head. "Trying to remember..." He screwed up his mouth. "I just... the closer we get to him being here, the... the more desperate I am for those memories. I feel like I'm living in a fog, spending the majority of my time trying to navigate my way out of the confusion that's become my mind. When is it going to end? Or.. worse, what if it never ends? What if I end up living with this for the rest of my life, and Amal grows up and... and he starts asking questions about the accident or about what it was like before we had him and I can't tell him because that chunk of my memory is missing? What if he looks at me differently?"

"Tim-"

"I'm his father, Ziva. I'm supposed to remember my child, I'm supposed to tell him stories of our lives before he came into them and how he changed them, and I won't be able to because I don't remember what it was like before then-"

"Shh." She reached up, taking his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking the apples of his cheeks. "Hush, ahuva." He took a deep breath, tears in his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you? Your memories will return in time. You need to have patience... and faith. Take it one day at a time, and eventually, everything will fall into place. Okay?"