Rifiuto: Non Miriena

She had to have heard wrong. Had he really just suggested they get an apartment together? She pulled away, letting go of his hand and pulling her hair off her shoulders. "I... I am sorry, Tim, but... did you just... did you just say that... that we should..." He nodded. She bit her lip, a myriad of emotions dancing across her face. He licked his lip, before getting up.

"It was just a suggestion." He grabbed the mug and headed into the kitchen, pouring the cold tea down the sink and starting a fresh pot. She sighed, getting up and following.

"I am sorry, Tim. I did not mean to hesitate, but... but it is just... such a big step and..."

"And we hardly know each other, I know. I was just thinking, because we have Asher, and... that maybe that would make the transition to America a little easier for him, if he had both his parents in the same apartment, like he does now, than if you moved into your own." He glanced around. "Besides, this place is... getting a little cramped, if you haven't noticed." Ziva blushed.

"I am sorry. We have taken-" But he set the cup down and laid a finger over her lips. He knew that she had been worried, especially after receiving a call that their things had been delayed and wouldn't arrive until the following week, two at most.

"If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have offered." She sighed. "Besides, Asher is my son, and you're his mother; we're a family. And families should stick together." He removed his finger from her lips, and took her chin in his hand. "So, if you want, we can start looking for apartments. But it's entirely up to you." He pressed a kiss to her head, before handing her a mug.

He awoke to someone shaking him. Still half-asleep, he swatted the person away, but the shaking continued, this time followed by a small voice. "Abba?" His eyes slowly fluttered open and he looked up to find Asher standing over him. Shaking the sleep away, he pushed himself to his elbow.

"What is it, is something wrong?" The boy swallowed.

"I... I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?"

"What about Ima?"

"I do not want to wake her-" Tim nodded, stopping him, and then pulled the covers back. The boy quickly scrambled under the blankets, watching as Tim gently tucked them back around him. "Abba?" His father looked up, green eyes sleepy.

"Yes?" Slowly, Asher licked his lips, choosing his words carefully.

"Are we really going to live together, like a real family?" Tim started; he hadn't been aware that the boy had even been awake, let alone listening. How did he explain this to a child, to his son? He bit his lip.

"If your Ima agrees, then yes, we'll get an apartment. As a family." The boy seemed to relax, giving him a small smile.

She shifted, but the feel of her hand laying on cold blankets jolted her awake, and she sat up. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized why her senses had gone on such high alert. Asher was gone. Quickly climbing out of bed, slipped out of the bedroom, checking the rest of the apartment, her mind going to the worst.

Her son was missing. What if someone had come in and taken him? What if he'd gone against his will? A whole host of worse-case scenarios began shifting through her head, and just as she returned to the room to grab her phone, she stopped, turning towards Tim's room. Something told her that the one room she hadn't checked would hold the key to her worries, and silently, she went to the door, slowly and silently pushing it open.

Her heart instantly relaxed its frantic beat.

Tucked in the bed, snuggled in his father's arms, was Asher, sound asleep, his head resting on Tim's chest. She leaned against the doorframe, watching her son. He had always been a cuddler, much like she was, but especially after he had a nightmare. And as a child in Israel, nightmares were a constant occurrence, what with the drone strikes, suicide bombings and various attacks by the Palestinians. She herself remembered the numerous times she'd climb into bed with her parents and hide, while the drones and planes flew overhead, filling the air with smoke and the cries of those unfortunates caught in the crossfire. Tali, even at sixteen, had climbed into bed with her whenever she stayed in Be'er Sheva, and huddled in her sister's arms, listening to her soft lullabies as the drones whistled overhead. They were a part of life in Israel, as much as Judaism and Mossad were. And obviously, something that would take some getting used to now that they were in America. As far as Ziva knew, there were no drone strikes or suicide bombers in America.

The whistling pierced her hearing before her eyes even opened, suddenly followed the loud cries coming from her son's crib. It took a few moments for her to realize what was going on, but once she did, she climbed out of bed and made her way to the crib. Tali sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What is wrong? Zivaleh?"

But the young mother ignored her, turning on the light and leaning over the crib. Tali was staying with her for the week, while Rivka was back in Tel Aviv, and wouldn't return until the weekend. Gently, she knelt down and reached out, scooping her son into her arms. "Oh Asher, oh my son." She pressed a soft kiss to the four-month-old baby's head, holding him against her shoulder. She bounced him gently, humming a soft lullaby as she walked back and forth in the bedroom, as Tali watched from the bed.

"They are doing it again. Dropping drones." Tali whispered, dark eyes wide with fear as she watched her sister pace back and forth with her nephew.

"Do not be ridiculous, Talia. If these are drone strikes, they will not hit Be'er Sheva, they will go after Tel Aviv. It represents more to them than our measly little city does. Hush, my angel." She pressed another kiss to his head. "Hush, my son. No more. They will not harm you, I promise." The baby continued to cry, as Tali ventured,

"Maybe it is not just the strike? Maybe he is hungry?" Her sister turned to her, and the girl shrunk back. "It is just a suggestion." Ziva sighed, glancing at her son.

"Perhaps you are right." She returned to the bed, taking a seat beside her sister and lowering the strap of her tank top, exposing her breast. She shifted the baby into the crook of her arm, and then guided his mouth to her breast, watching as he instantly calmed and began to nurse. She stared into his small, beautiful face, seeing him, and tears instantly welled in her eyes.

"Ziva, is something wrong?" Slowly, the young mother met her sister's gaze.

"No. I just... it is not fair, that his Abba is not here. I am just missing him, is all." She sniffled, before turning her gaze back to her son. Eventually, she shifted her son to her other breast, tugging the first strap back onto her shoulder. "At first, I hated him for putting me in this position, but now..." She sighed, reaching up and gently brushing her fingers over the baby's soft dark hair. "Now, I have never been more grateful to him for giving me this gift."

She sighed, moving away from the door. Gently, she perched on the side of the bed, reaching up and gently running her fingers through her son's hair. The boy shifted, turning his head as his eyes blinked and he stared at Ziva. "Ima?" She gave him a soft smile.

"I just came in to check on you. Go back to sleep, my angel." She stood, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his head. "Go back to sleep with Abba." She had no idea what possessed her, but she pressed a soft kiss to Tim's forehead as well, before slipping out of the room and returning to her own bed.