Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Thanks to nourseholly for reviewing 1.

The air was chilly, but Timothy didn't notice. He was quiet, careful not to wake his parents as he settled on the fire escape. A sigh escaped his throat, and he leaned back against the cold brick by the window, his eyes closing.

Meeting Anthony DiNozzo today was perhaps the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Tony's comment had forced him to gather his courage in regards to something he'd been too frightened to even consider until that night. He'd been wanting to ask Ari it he could court Ziva for some time, but could never find the courage. Why would a beautiful girl like Ziva ever want to be courted by a lazy Irishman like himself anyway? Technically, from what he understood of the Jewish faith, a matchmaker was supposed to find a suitable match for a girl like Ziva. And if no matchmaker was available, then it was up to her brother.

And if what he'd witnessed tonight was any indication, Ari would never give his blessing.

All because he was Catholic and she was Jewish.

"Timmy?" Sarah climbed through the window, joining him on the fire escape with a blanket. She scooted towards him, and he wrapped the blanket around them, allowing his little sister to snuggle into him.

"Ye need t' be in bed, Sarah."

"Bu' yer lonely, Timmy." She replied. He sighed. "Are ye sad?"

"Aye, a lit'le."

"Why?" He kept quiet. "'tis it 'bout Ziva?" He stiffened, before pulling away to look at her. "Ye like 'er."

"'ow did ye-"

"Ye look a' 'er th' same way Da looks a' Mams." She snuggled back into her brother's embrace and Timothy sighed, wrapping his arms around her. For such a young child, Sarah had the wisdom of the gods- exceedingly perceptive, she often understood things adults didn't, and more than once often spoke what everyone else feared to. The sister he adored was wise, far too wise beyond her young years. "Ye're in love wit' 'er. Ziva." Sarah murmured with a yawn, the sound of her brother's heart in her ear slowly putting her to sleep. As he adjusted his hold on her and slipped back into the apartment, he knew- and feared- that Sarah was right.

Ziva lay in bed that night, tears drying on her cheeks. Ari had not given her a definitive answer, simply telling her that they had to keep to their faiths, because in the end, that was all they could count on. Eventually, both siblings had gone to bed, however sleep eluded the young woman.

Had Timothy always wanted to court her? Clearly, he had always been sweet on her, just as she was on him, and they'd danced around it for months, until Anthony DiNozzo had pointed it out. What if Ari said yes? Would there be more than a courtship? A wedding possibly? Would they have their own small apartment, where they would live as man and wife? Where they would create children and raise them? A life of their own?

Here in America.

Where, if they worked hard enough, they could make their dreams come true.

After a moment, she slipped out of bed, quickly getting dressed and grabbing a shawl before slipping out of the apartment and hurrying silently down the stairs.

Her feet knew the way by now.

She had been to the McGee's often enough that she could find her way without help, even by moonlight. Eventually, she came upon the building the McGees lived in, and moved around to the side, searching for the window with the fire escape-

And there he was, sitting alone, staring at the moon, lost in thought.

"Timothy. Timothy!" He didn't hear her. She glanced around for several minutes, before moving towards the ladder that hung several feet off the ground. There was no way she could reach, but she didn't need to. "Timothy!" He looked up at her whisper, and after several minutes, got up and leaned over the railing.

"Ziva? Wha' are ye doin' here?" But before she could respond, he shook his head. "Ne'er mind. One moment." Eventually, he joined her on the ground, tugging her into the shadows beneath the ladder. "Wha' are ye doin' here, Ziva? 'Tis late."

She met his gaze, her arms going around his neck, as tears gathered in her eyes. "Ari. He... he will not give his blessing. He says that... that faith is all we have, and... all we will ever have. That... that we are too young and... that we do not know what love is... that even though I am in America now, Abba would want me to marry a good Jewish boy..." She buried her face in his chest. "I do not want to marry a good Jewish boy, Timothy. I may be young, but I know that this is love- this happiness I feel with you." He slid his arms around her waist, holding her close as she burst into tears, Sarah's words ringing in his head.

So perhaps he was in love with her, or at least, falling in love with her. Either way, he knew that he would never feel for any other girl- certainly not a good Catholic girl- what he felt for Ziva. Never in a million years. Silently, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his mind working overtime.

A courtship was different to marriage. A courtship was getting to know each other before marriage. But since Ari would not give his blessing-

No, you canna do tha'. 'twould break Mams's hear', if ye did. And Da- He tightened his hold on Ziva. Bu' if no one knew-

Slowly, he pulled away from her, lifting her chin and gently brushing her tears away with the ball of his thumb. "Hush, Ziva. Please, d' no' cry."

She met his gaze. "Wh... what do we do, Timothy?"

He sighed. He had an idea, but couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. "I don' know."