Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary: A/N: Written: 2014. - Licia

"His punishment shall not be to die, but to live forever with his guilt."

He turned his head, lost in the nightmare. Ziva snuggled closer, tightening her arms around his waist. The small bed and breakfast the team was staying at was in the heart of Salem- a beautiful old Victorian home with a square cupola at the top; the house had once been home to the Dennison family, but since the kids had grown and moved on, the parents had sold it, leaving the new owners to turn it into a bed and breakfast. Softly, Tim whimpered, tightening his grip on Ziva even as he tried to push her away to escape. Eventually, though, his moving awoke Ziva, and she lifted her head from his chest. It took a few minutes for her gaze to adjust to the darkness, but once it did, she was able to see the emotions flashing across his face, as he fought within the nightmare.

"Tim? Tim, baby, wake up."

"No... no, don't..."

"Tim." She reached up, taking his face in her hands in an attempt to get him to stop moving long enough to listen to her. "Tim, baby stop. You're having a nightmare-"

"Emily... no. Emily!"

She pulled back, surprise filling every fiber of her being as the name flew from his lips. Minutes passed, before Ziva slipped out of bed and went to the small closet that had been converted into a bathroom when the house had been renovated. She took leaned against the sink, watching as goose bumps rose on her exposed flesh. Something about the way he'd cried out for her, for this Emily had her spooked.

Who was she, anyway? A former friend? Childhood sweetheart? Old girlfriend? Someone Tim knew from his college years at MIT or John Hopkins? Or did she have a deeper connection to him? She could be a former lover of his. She shook her head. No, that couldn't be it. Both knew about their past lovers and relationships, and both had made a point to let the other know that their past relationships didn't define their current one.

So who the hell was Emily?

She turned, hearing Tim cry out, and rushed back into the room, to find him writhing and crying out as if in pain. Ziva climbed onto the bed beside him, pressing her hands to his shoulders, attempting to hold him down. She searched his face, but he hadn't opened his eyes. Still trapped in the nightmare, Tim continued to fight her. "Tim! Timmy! Timothy, wake up!" She reached out to brush his hair out of his eyes, but he reached out, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip as his green eyes snapped open.

"Emily!"

He found himself staring into Ziva's dark, worry-filled eyes. She sat beside him, one hand pressed against his shoulder. Several minutes passed as he struggled to catch his breath, and slowly sat up, pushing himself back against the headboard. Ziva remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts. Once it seemed like he'd gotten his faculties back in order, Tim choked out,

"Ziva?"

She nodded, before climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist, holding her close as he lay his chin against her head. She could feel his heart, still beating erratically in his chest, and gently, reached down, laying a hand over his chest, hoping the feel of her palm against his skin would calm the wild beating within his ribcage. Slowly, he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. Eventually, he pressed a kiss to her head, pulling away.

"You okay now?" She asked softly. He nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah. Sorry, it was just a nightmare." She gave him a weak smile, deciding not to bring up the other woman's name he'd screamed in his sleep.

"So what... exactly happened?" Tony asked that morning as they arrived at the crime scene. The petty officer's body had been dumped in the local cemetery, and found by a group of teens out looking for a little pre-Halloween fun. Now, the team gathered in the graveyard, photographing, tagging and bagging evidence amid the falling leaves and crooked stones.

"Signs of strangulation, Anthony." Ducky stated as he pulled the liver probe from the woman's body. "I'd say she died... between twenty-four and seventy-two hours ago-"

"So she's been here this entire time, and we're only now just processing the crime scene?" Tony asked, looking at the wily ME.

"Small-town mentality. Most people in small towns like this don't trust big city people, especially federal employees like us." Gibbs replied.

"But we're civilian-"

"Doesn't matter, DiNozzo. According to people in towns like these, anyone from out of town isn't to be trusted."

As Tony and Gibbs continued to bag and tag, Tim and Ziva searched for any evidence left near the crime scene, snapping photos and jotting down notes. As he snapped another photo, Tim stopped, lowering the camera and stepping closer to study the gravestone. It was old, probably from the late seventeenth or early eighteenth century. The engraving around the edges was simple, but it gave the stone an elegant beauty. The engraved face of a cherub looked over the body buried beneath the worn script. He moved closer, kneeling down to read what was engraved into the stone. "Here lies the body of-" He stopped, reaching down to brush the dirt and webs off the name. Clearly, these stones were neglected, left to rot and erode like clothing hidden away in the attic. Once he got the grime clear, he slowly read the name, and his heart stilled.

Emily Binx.

His nightmare from early that morning came rushing back full force, and he struggled to take a breath. He didn't hear Ziva calling for him, he only focused on the stone, on the name of the girl buried beneath. "Tim? Timothy?"

"Thackery! Thackery Binx!"

"Emily!"

"Thackery Binx, what took thee so long?"

"I'm sorry, Emily. I had to-"

Tim took a deep breath. "'wait three hundred years for a virgin to light a candle.'" Someone laid their hand on his shoulder and he jumped, turning to see Ziva standing over him.

"Timothy? Are you okay?" He nodded, glancing quickly at the stone before standing. When he found himself the object of her study, he sighed, taking her hand and squeezing.

"I'm fine. I promise." Then, with a last glance at the stone, he made his way towards Gibbs and the rest of the team. Ziva watched him go before turning her attention back to the stone her lover had been transfixed by. She studied the stone, eyes lighting at the name.

Emily Binx.

Emily.

But... but how did Tim know who this girl was? She had apparently died over three hundred years ago, and as far as Ziva knew, Tim had never been to Salem before. He wasn't like Abby, who loved all things cemetery and death related, and he'd never been interested much in the history of the witch trials, he'd always been more interested in things like Russia during the Great War, or the Rape of Nanking, or the White Rose Resistance during the Holocaust- things that made him think, and that screamed to be understood. Not that the witch trials probably didn't do the same thing, but it just wasn't something Tim was interested in.

"Ziva! Come on!" She turned back; Tim was waiting for her.

"Be right there!" He nodded. With one final glance at the stone, she hurried to join her partner and her team.