Rifiuto: Non Mirena

Ziva looked up as the door opened as Tim came back in, Sarah holding tight to his hand. She smiled softly at the pair, before turning back to her son, gently extracting the baby from her breast and holding him to her shoulder, rubbing his back before shifting him against her chest, so he could hear her heart. "Look, Amal. That's Daddy and Auntie Sarit."

Sarah took a seat on the edge of the bed, sniffling. She reached over, taking Ziva's hand and squeezing gently as Tim stopped by the bed, his gaze moving to his son.

His son.

That tiny human being who'd been moving and shifting inside his wife's belly for the last several months was finally out and in the world...

And he's absolutely beautiful.

Ziva glanced down at the boy, before turning back to her husband. "Do you want to hold your baby boy, Daddy?"

But Tim suddenly tensed up, holding his hands in front of him and stumbling back. "No, no, I... I don't think I should... I um... no. That's okay. You... you can keep holding him. Or... or why not have Sarah hold him? He's her nephew."

"But he's your son, Timmy." Sarah whispered, seeing the fear in her brother's eyes. Tim shook his head.

"I just... no. I... no, he... he's not. He's not my son..." Pain filled Ziva's dark gaze, and she sighed, realizing that what she'd said while in the throes of labor had come back to haunt her... that Tim had heard and that it had sunk in. "I'm sorry." And without a word, he fled, rushing from the room and down the hallway, bumping into Jeanne as she came out of another room, looking exhausted.

"Whoa, Tim, where's the fire? Something wrong with Ziva or the baby?"

He shook his head, moving past her. "Not my son." Jeanne glanced behind her in time to see Sarah come out of the room, and after a moment, she followed after; Sarah, realizing that this was something she couldn't fix, left it to the good doctor. Jeanne found him downstairs in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

"Tim?" He glanced up at her, and Jeanne saw the chaos clouding his eyes. "Oh, Tim." Sarah had told her of what Ziva had said, even though it was said out of pain and fear, it had still been said. "She didn't mean it; when she said it, she was in a lot of pain, and a lot of her words were driven by fear. She didn't mean it seriously."

"But what if she's right?" Jeanne sighed.

"Tim, you've been through a lot. And I'm sure that what Ziva said during labor didn't help- but that's just it. She said it during labor. She was in an enormous amount of pain and wasn't thinking clearly. She didn't mean it."

"But what if she did, Dr. Beniot?" A moment passed before Jeanne moved closer, reaching out and resting a hand against his arm.

"Tim, listen to me. You've made so much progress in the last few months, do not let something that Ziva said while she was struggling to deal with contractions take that progress away. Don't let it. It's not true. You have done exceedingly well, these last few months, and if you allow something said during childbirth to set you back..." She shrugged, reaching up to brush a tear off his cheek. "You need to let yourself relax and focus on something other than the amnesia. Okay?" Slowly, he nodded. "Now, your son was just born, and I bet he's anxious to meet his daddy." She led him back up to the room, the paperwork in hand.

Once there, Tim stayed back by the door, watching as Jeanne explained the forms that needed to be filled out before they could go home. "Tim?" He met Ziva's gaze. "Tim, come meet your son." He stayed where he was. "Please." A moment passed before he slowly moved away from the door, joining them all on the bed. Slowly, gently, Ziva reached over, laying the baby in his arms before he could protest. "Yeah... that's Daddy. Are you in Daddy's arms? Yeah, you're in Daddy's arms, aren't you, Amal?" She gently brushed a hand over her son's head, before glancing at her husband. A slow, tiny smile appeared on her husband's features, as the baby looked up at him. "My two beautiful loves."

Tim met her gaze, startled by her words. "You love me? E... even after... after everything?"

"How could I not, Tim? You're my husband." She reached up, gently brushing her knuckles over his cheek. "You gave me this beautiful little boy... you're my heart... how could I ever not love you?" Then, without a word, she leaned over, capturing his lips in a soft kiss, before turning her gaze to their son. Slowly, Tim followed, looking down at the little boy in his arms and drinking him in.

He truly was beautiful, this little boy cradled in his arms. God, he looks just like you.

Gently, cautiously, Tim reached up, brushing a finger over his son's forehead and down the bridge of his nose. Though the baby's eyes were unfocused, Amal was clearly watching him. The newborn had a head of dark curls and beautiful, chubby cheeks, like all newborns possessed, and Tim recognized his wife's gorgeous dark eyes and that cupid's bow of a mouth- clearly a feature the boy had inherited from his mother. Amal's skin was a soft mixture of both his tone and Ziva's, and Tim noticed that there was a small, bluish-colored spot on the baby's right shoulder.

After a moment, Tim turned to Jeanne. "Um... is that-"

But Ziva laid a hand on his arm, causing him to turn to her. Slowly, she turned, showing him the space on her shoulder blade. "I have it too, Tim. It's just a Mongolian spot, like the angel's kiss on your eyelid. Nothing to worry about. It won't harm Amal." She then turned back to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.