Rifiuto: Non Miriena

"You gave him to me. And by giving him to me, you saved me."

Her own words rang in loud in her head, and after a moment, she pushed herself up, to check the clock on her cell.

Barely oh-one-hundred.

She glanced over her shoulder; Tim was sound asleep, his breathing even, and she watched him for several minutes, realizing how beautiful he truly was, and reveling in the fact that her son had inherited that beauty. A moment passed, before she reached out and gently caressed his cheek, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I will be right back."

Silently, she slipped out of bed and moved to the door. Once out in the hall, she headed to their son's room. It was still strange for them both to be sharing the same room, but she was grateful; they needed the time to get to know each other. A lot had changed in the eight years since their separation, and they were both different people now.

As she slipped into her son's bedroom, she found him fast asleep. Sighing, she went to the bed and perched lightly on the edge before reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. This little boy had been her saving grace, for eight years. He'd given her a reason to complete the missions she was assigned, to come home, to remember to survive. He had been the reason she had stopped once she'd gotten the revenge she so deeply desired.

This was not happening. When had she turned as bad as the people who had taken her mother and sister from the world? Yes, she was an assassin, she had been trained to kill, but only those that deserved it. That was the reasoning behind Mossad: remove those from the world that take innocent lives on a mass scale. But now...

The back door slammed shut behind her, and she sank to the floor, forcing herself to take deep breaths. Seeing that car blow up, hearing that little girl's trapped screams-

"Ima?"

She looked up. A moment passed, where she didn't recognize who stood in front of her, but then he reached out for her, and she remembered. Without a word, she pulled the five-year-old into her lap, burying her face in his dark hair. "I love you, my angel. I love you so, so much." She pressed firm, hard kisses to his head, repeating it over and over again, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Ima, why are you crying?" His innocent green eyes stared up at her, and she felt herself start to cry harder. Those beautiful green eyes...

None of this would have happened if he had come back for her. If she had had the courage to tell him about his son.

"No reason, my angel. I just missed you." She lied, relishing the smile that lit up his face. If she could keep him from the danger and destruction, if she could stop his world from becoming tainted, from becoming drenched in danger and death, like hers had been, then maybe, just maybe...

"I made this for Abba. Would he like it?" She took the drawing he handed her, and fresh tears began to gather in her eyes. Three stick figures, holding hands next to a house, with a smiling sun shining down on them; she choked on a sob. He needed this. Her son needed a stable home; one not tainted at the edges with violence and pain, but one surrounded and protected by love and happiness. He needed his mother and his father, together. Loving him and loving each other. He needed a home, a real home, with his father there, to love him. She needed him too.

But she didn't know if she would ever get the chance to give her son what he so desperately needed. She had no way of contacting his father, or even finding him. Nor, did she think, that she would ever get the chance. If ever. But she couldn't tell her son that. So she plastered on the smile and laid the picture by her side.

"He would love it, my angel. I know he would."

"Do you?" She nodded, taking his chin in her hand.

"Ken. I love it very much. Just like I love you." He wrapped his small arms around her neck, and she held him close, breathing in his scent. Her gaze shifted to the drawing, and she took a deep breath. This little boy was her first priority. He needed her. And she needed him. She pressed another firm kiss to his head. "I love you, my angel. I love you."

He shifted under her fingers. "Ima?" She gave him a small smile.

"Go back to sleep, my angel. It is still dark out." He slowly opened his eyes, those beautiful green orbs coated thinly in sleep. He yawned, and Ziva chuckled softly.

"... Abba?"

"Still in bed, asleep. Just like you should be." He shook his head, even as his eyes began to close.

"Do not... want... to..."

"I know you do not want to sleep, but you need it. We all do. Now, close your eyes, and go with the angels to dreamland." She gently caressed his cheek, and once satisfied that he was sound asleep, she leaned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you." Then, she stood and slipped silently out of the room.

Instead of returning to bed, she wandered into the living room, finding the box she had returned Asher's memory chest to, and gently lifted it out. Taking a seat on the floor, she lifted the lid, and slowly shifted through the contents, pulling out the letters she had written but never sent. Pulling out one of the letters, she opened it and sat back to read through the words she'd written at seventeen.