Rifiuto: Non Mirena

"How's Mama doing?"

"It's been two days since we saw Jeanne, how do you think she's doing, Sarah?"

The young photographer held up her hands in surrender, following her brother out of the kitchen and into the living room. As the two settled on the sofa chatting, Ziva came into the living room from the bathroom. "You okay, Ziva?" She nodded silently at her sister, before joining them, settling back against her husband. Tim slid an arm around her, pulling her close and gently stroking her belly.

"Honey, are you sure you're okay?" Slowly, the young mother turned, meeting his gaze.

"I... I lost the rest of my mucus plug." Her husband shook his head, green eyes narrowing.

"Okay?"

Sarah rolled her eyes; sometimes her brother could be so incredibly thick it was funny. "God, Timmy, don't you listen at her appointments? Her cervix is softening; has been for the last few weeks. She's in the early stages of labor. Doesn't necessarily mean she's going to give birth today, but it could be soon, just like the doctor said."

"Thank you, Sarah, I got that."

"Are you sure, or do you need me to explain it again?"

He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned it, getting a smile out of Ziva before she turned to the older woman, reaching out and taking her hand. "Just relax, Ziva. Nothing to get upset or excited about, like she said, right?"

"Right."

"Are your contractions still irregular?" The Israeli nodded. "Okay. Then just focus on the now, and not on your labor until they become regular and more intense, remember?"

Later that night, Ziva snuggled into Tim's arms, wanting nothing more than to be held, despite the enormous weight she carried in front of her. She could only take trying to sleep semi-sitting without the contact with her husband for so long, and she wanted it now, before their son arrived and she and Tim would be pushing each other out of the bed in the middle of the night to take care of him. Their hands laced, resting on her belly, but unfortunately, neither could sleep, even though for once, Amal seemed to be sleeping, for there was no movement, no tiny feet or hands trying to play with them. Clearly the boy had worn himself out in the last few weeks. But for his parents, the realization that their son could be out in the world soon had them both wide awake. "Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Unfortunately, yes." He squeezed her hands gently. "You aren't the only one that Amal's kept awake." Ziva chuckled softly, selfishly happy to hear of such a thing. But soon, her fears began to take hold again and she swallowed, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Are you... scared? Of... of what's coming? Because he's going to be here soon and... and then... and and then we'll be parents... like... not just... soon-to-be parents, but parents of an actual baby that's going to be in our arms, and we'll... we'll be the ones responsible for raising him and making sure he gets into a good college and makes the right decisions and... and stays away from the wrong people and..."

"Shh, hush, Ziva." He reached up, quickly stroking her hair back behind her ear, gently pressing a kiss to her head. "You're working yourself up over something that's years away."

"But-"

"We have eighteen years before he grows up, Ziva. Hell, Amal isn't even out in our arms yet and you're worried about the college he'll attend and the job he gets."

She sighed. "I just... Jeanne said it could be soon and..." She swallowed, squeezing his hands gently. "What if... what if I'm not a good mother? What if I'm a horrible mother? Tim, I was a killer, what kind of child could a killer raise? I mean, look at my father- look at what he did to me-"

He squeezed her hands gently, brushing a kiss to her hair. "That's ridiculous, Ziva. Absolutely and completely ridiculous. You are not your father; his mistakes are not going to be yours. Amal is not going to turn into a killer simply because you were one for Mossad before you came to America. You're a wonderful mother now, and you'll be a wonderful mother after Amal's born."

"But-"

"No buts, honey. Trust me, you'll be a wonderful mother." She met his gaze, giving him a soft smile and a gentle kiss before pulling away and getting up, scrambling with difficulty out of the bed. Something felt off.

"I'll be right back."

The bathroom door slammed shut behind her, and Tim sighed, shifting onto his back. He quickly rubbed a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. "I don't care if I never remember the last four years of my marriage, but all I want... all I think I've ever wanted is to remember my wife and son. Why did you have to take that away from me? And what can I possibly do to get them back?" He laughed dryly. "God, you're so exhausted McGee, that you're talking to nothing but the ceiling-"

He sat up as the bathroom door opened. "Ziva, sweetheart, what's wrong?" After quickly turning on the light he got up, rushing to her. She swallowed, hands resting on her back before looking up at him. How did she tell her husband that the 'bloody show' Jeanne had told her about had stained her underwear, that that meant that sometime in the next few days, she'd be in full-blown labor, that would lead to her pushing their son out of her body? What exactly could she say that would make it as real for him as it was for her?

She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. Trying to keep her voice as calm as possible,

"We... we need to go to the birth center, Tim. Now."