Rifiuto: Non Mirena

She released a slow breath, resting her head back against Tim's shoulder. It was now six in the morning, and despite having started the latent phase of her labor, Ziva's dilation and effacement were both progressing slowly, with the contractions slowly coming in stronger with each passing hour; she'd tried to sleep, but the pain in her belly had been too much, so she alternated standing and sitting. Currently, she was leaning back against her husband, his hands laced through hers, swaying gently to the music Ziva had reminded Tim and Sarah to bring. Sarah had come and gotten Jeanne at about three that morning, and the doctor had determined that part of the problem was due to the baby not descending as he should.

"Oh, God..." She squeezed his hands, forcing herself to take a deep breath as they continued to sway. "Tim... it hurts..."

"Shh, breathe through it, sweetheart. That's it, that's my good girl." He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, before tightening his hold on her and resting his chin to her shoulder. She squeezed his hands, shutting her eyes tightly. "Deep breaths, that's it. You're doing good, honey."

"O... oh..." A soft whimper escaped her throat and she quickly loosened her grip on his hands, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

"Do you remember that case we had a couple years ago, the one where that baby carrier was left in front of NCIS?" She nodded once. "And... how we agreed to take care of the baby until the case finished?" Another nodded. "Remember how attached you got to the little girl? I had to give her to the grandmother, otherwise you never would have let her go." His wife let out a breathy chuckle.

"What's your... point, Tim?"

He smiled softly, his lips brushing her ear. "Well, this time, we won't have to give the baby to his grandmother unless we want a few days to ourselves." Ziva grinned, before a whimper escaped her throat. She hissed, squeezing his hands. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"My... my hips." Sarah looked up from adjusting the camera. She hurried to her sister and brother; instantly, Ziva reached for her, wrapping her arms around the younger woman's shoulders. Sarah held her, feeling Ziva rest her head on her shoulder. "Oh, God... it hurts."

"What hurts?" Sarah met her brother's gaze, mouthing one word,

'Pressure.' He furrowed a brow. "The pressure on her hips... Ziva, honey, does it hurt in your back, too?" His wife nodded. "Do you want a hip squeeze, would that help?" She glanced at Tim as Ziva nodded again. "Timmy, listen to me carefully. Put your hands on either side of her hips, with your fingers on her hipbones," She watched as Tim did as she instructed. "Okay, now make sure you keep your hands steady, and when you rotate your palms, rotate them inward to apply the pressure, and then move them up and in. Make sure your palms are on her flesh, not her bone so you don't hurt her." Tim nodded, being gentle as he squeezed; Ziva hissed sharply, and he stopped.

"What's wrong?"

His wife whimpered, burrowing her face in Sarah's shoulder, and the younger woman nodded at him. "Do it again."

"I'm hurting her-"

"Not as much as these contractions and the pressure your son is putting on her pelvis! Now do it again, Timothy!"

He sighed, being gentle as he squeezed, and Ziva dug her nails into Sarah's shoulder, crying out. Again Tim stopped, but this time it was Ziva who spoke up. "H.. harder... Tim... please... do it harder..." With a glance at his sister, Tim did as his wife asked, and after twenty minutes- with Ziva constantly asking him to apply more pressure- she was finally able to relax a little.

"Feel better?" Ziva nodded as she pulled away from Sarah, turning to her husband.

"Toda, ahuva." Gently, she rose up, kissing his cheek, before going to the bed and settling on it. Tim glanced at his sister, who glanced pointedly at the bed, before picking up her camera and looking through the images she'd already taken in the last few hours. Taking a deep breath, Tim took a seat on the other side of the bed before lying down and snuggling close; he slid his arms around her from behind, holding her back against his chest. Ziva snuggled into his side, lacing their fingers and pulling her knees up slightly. When the contractions started again, Tim disentangled his hand from hers, reaching down and gently pressing back and forth along her lower back. A soft whimper escaped Ziva's throat, and she squeezed his hand. "Oh... make it stop..."

Eventually, the pain stopped and Tim sat up, helping Ziva to a sitting position. She took a deep breath, running her hands over her belly repeatedly, taking slow breaths. "You okay?" She nodded, continuing the familiar motion for several minutes before reaching down for the bottom of the shirt she wore.

"It's hot..."

"Let me turn down the-" But Sarah grabbed her brother's wrist as he reached for the thermostat.

"It's not hot in here, Tim. It's Ziva. She's going through so much right now, she can't take the layers she's wearing." Tim turned back as Ziva quickly pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it to the end of the bed, leaving herself in only her pajama bottoms and a bra. She then returned her hands to her belly, taking another deep breath, her eyes closed. She seemed to relax- even momentarily- enough that a tiny smile briefly graced her features- one that Sarah managed to catch on film- before her features morphed and she let out a soft whimpering cry.

Tim rushed back to her, taking a seat behind her and sliding his arms around her. "Shh, hush, sweetheart. I'm right here, I've got you." The image of her big brother comforting his wife was one she couldn't resist, and lifted her camera.