Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Ziva awoke to find the bed cold, and herself alone. She looked around; Tim was nowhere to be found. Ziva had since moved into Tim's apartment; Bracha's nursey was in the spare room, and it was cozy, if a little cramped for the small family, but Ziva found that she didn't want to be anywhere else. She quickly checked the time on the alarm clock.
Oh-Three-Hundred.
She sighed, and got up, wandering into the kitchen. It was there that she found Tim, sitting at the kitchen table, looking through a stack of papers. Hands on her back, she shuffled towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Tim, what are you doing up? It's oh-three-hundred. Bracha is asleep, for once, why are you up so early? You go out for a run?" He glanced over his shoulder at her and sighed, reaching up and taking her hand.
"I didn't mean to wake you, Ziver, I just... couldn't sleep." She took a seat in the chair beside his, watching him.
"Nightmare?" She asked, but he shook his head.
"No. Just... just thinking." He replied, taking a sip of his tea. She leaned close, to read what he was looking at. She paled, her heart dropping into her toes.
"T... Tim... is that the..." He nodded, and she looked up at him. Tears filled her dark eyes, and she shook her head. "You cannot... be serious about still going through with it. You promised me... you told me... when Bracha was born... that you wouldn't..." She choked on a sob. "And you... you are going to go through with it... Tim, she is our daughter, you cannot... you cannot leave us like this..." But Tim laid a finger on her lips.
"Shh." He met her eyes, using his thumb to brush away her tears. "Hush, Ziver." He whispered, leaning close as he removed his finger from her lips.
"But-" She swallowed her words as Tim's lips crashed onto hers; he drank her in, tracing and searching every nook and cranny of her mouth with his tongue. He pulled her close, exploring her mouth deeper, as he held her face in his hands, running his tongue gently along hers. Eventually, he broke the kiss, tugging on her lower lip with his teeth. When he finally released her, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before getting up. Ziva watched him, fresh tears in her eyes as he poured another cup of tea for her. Her gaze followed him as he rummaged around in a drawer, before pulling something out and closing it. Then, he turned back to the table. "Tim, what are you doing?" She asked, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.
A moment passed, before he picked up the papers and went to the cabinet, grabbing a ceramic bowl. He returned to the table, taking a seat next to Ziva. He glanced at her, but didn't say anything, and it was then, as he lifted the stack of papers and held them over the bowl, that she realized what he held in his hand.
A lighter.
He flicked it open; the flame soon burst to life, glowing within the lighter Tim held. Ziva watched the flame dance, eyes transfixed. He gave her a soft smile, flicking the lighter closed and extinguishing the flame, before flicking it open again and bringing forth another. "I've been thinking," He whispered, meeting her gaze briefly before turning back to the papers. Tim continued to play with the lighter, flicking it open and closed, starting and extinguishing the flame with the flick of his wrist. He glanced at her, holding her gaze, the flame from the lighter the only light in the apartment.
"Yes, Tim?" She breathed, swallowing the lump in her throat. He was playing with her, she could see it, and as much as she loved it when he played with her, right now, all she wanted was for him to stop playing and be serious.
"That..." He turned back to the parental rights papers in his hands. A moment passed in silence, before he flicked the lighter open again and struck the flame, then turned to the papers in his hand and, using the lighter, lit the bottom right edge of the paperwork on fire. Once done, he shut the lighter and dropped the burning papers into the bowl. She held her breath, not wanting to believe what she was seeing, but knowing in her heart that it was really happening. Once done, he dropped the lighter on the table and turned to face Ziva.
She swallowed, licking her lips. "Tim?"
He took a seat beside her, reaching out to take her hands. As he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, he said, "I've been thinking, that the last thing we need to do is fight about staying or going." Ziva held her breath. "Especially who's staying or going."
Brown eyes met green, and she inhaled sharply, not sure if she should believe it. Swallowing her fear, she asked, "You... you truly mean it, Tim?" He nodded, but before he could say anything, Ziva had thrown her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. The chair they were in rocked back slightly before settling on all four feet, and after a moment, Tim shifted her so that Ziva sat on his lap, her arms loosely around his neck. When they came up for air, Ziva laid her head on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck. Tim wrapped his arms tight around her waist, one hand resting on her belly.
Even though days had passed since Bracha had been born, Ziva still looked about six months along. Not that Tim minded. He told her often how beautiful she looked, since giving birth, and after a couple days of self-conscious doubt, she began to take Tim's compliments in stride. Now, as he wrapped his arms tight around her, she knew that they were in this for the long haul, strings and all. "I mean it, Ziver." He said, resting his chin on her shoulder. Ziva pulled away to look at him, dark eyes wide.
"What?"
"I mean it. I'm not going anywhere, Ziva."
