Rifiuto: Non Mirena

A/N: I love it when I find an actual completed story in her 'Completed' folder. Now if I can just edit it and upload it, we'll be all set to finish.- Licia

Thanks to Sazzita, Reader aka Sun Samurai and mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 10.

"How do you know she doesn't either?"

To be honest, he didn't.

He knew next to nothing about her, really, other than the fact that she was Israeli-born, in the process of becoming an American citizen, and worked at NCIS. And that she was perhaps the most intriguing woman he'd ever met.

A moment passed, before he stood, moving out from behind the counter and going to the back of the store, taking a box of books he'd just finished inventorying with him. He heard the door open and close; another customer, or a tourist, having stumbled upon it by accident. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Is that all you are willing to give me? A moment of your time?"

He stopped restocking, hand still holding onto the book he'd just set upon the shelf, and turned. She stood before him, dressed in a flowing black-polka dot skirt that came midway to her knees and a red blouse with black buttons. A pair of red ballet flats were on her feet, and she had a black beret on her head, a black, military-style coat hung open on her small frame, and her hair was pulled back in a messy braid. Her makeup was minimal, and the bag she held before her was a deep red. Instantly, his mouth dropped, his gaze roaming over her small frame- he'd been around enough Parisian women to know the styles and how they prided themselves on making a statement; clearly, she'd taken a page from Paris's famous Fashion Week.

"Ah... you... you look..."

She waited, giggling as he stammered his way into silence. It wasn't the typical girlish giggle most women possessed; no, hers was soft, throaty, husky- like Lauren Bacall, though when she spoke- and how she looked- he was reminded of Natalie Wood. The same aura of mystery that surrounded the famous West Side Story actress surrounded the woman in front of him. "I am sorry, I did not mean to interrupt-"

"No, that... that's okay. Wo... do you want some..." She waited. "C... cof..."

"Coffee?" She finished for him. He nodded. "I would love some."

They soon sat before the fire, cups of coffee in their grasps, lost in conversation. Somehow, someway, the conversation turned to films- a good majority of American films that she hadn't ever seen.

"You mean to tell me that you've never seen Splendor in the Grass?" She shook her head. "Have you heard of it?" Another shake of the head. "You're missing out. It's one of Natalie Wood's finest performances. It's said that the majority of her marvelous acting stemmed from issues with her own mother, and she was able to channel that into her performance. And Warren Beatty's good too." He added as an almost afterthought.

Ziva giggled. "Who is Warren Beatty?"

His green eyes widened in surprise. It took a moment before he set his cup on the table. "Okay, that's it, you have to see it now." He stood, holding out a hand. "Come on." She glanced up at him.

"But... what about the store?" He glanced around, as though giving it real thought, but to be honest, it was a slow day; Mondays always were.

"Mondays are always slow. So are you coming or not?" A moment passed before she set her cup down and took his hand. They soon left the bookstore, making their way towards his apartment once he'd locked up the store. Upon returning to his place, he fixed two mugs of tea and then turned the TV on, slipping a DVD into the player and turning it on before joining her on the sofa. Sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, the pair shared glances, before she slowly scooted closer. By the time they got a quarter of the way through the film, the pair were curled up under a blanket.

"Is it all on account of... because of Bud? Because he doesn't call for you anymore?"

"I don't know. I don't know, Mom."

"I have a mind to call that boy and tell him-"

They watched as Deanie shot up, screaming at her mother. Such a drastic change startled the Israeli, who, thanks to her upbringing, didn't understand the pain of a first heartbreak and the stigma that surrounded the loss of a girl's virginity- especially in nineteen-twenties America, the time frame of when the film was set.

"Deanie, how serious had you and Bud become? I mean, well, you know what I mean. Deanie - had he - had anything serious happened? Did he - did he spoil you?"

Ziva turned to him "Spoil? Has she gone rotten like fruit?"

He furrowed a brow, before the confusion in her question clicked. "No. Spoiled, in this sense... it means the loss of her virginity."

Slowly, she nodded in understanding. "Oh."

"Spoil? Did he spoil me?" Ziva started, again confused as to why was dunking her head in the water and flailing around like a wild cat before sitting up, but she kept quiet, not wanting to miss anymore scenes. "No. No, Mom!" Deanie's voice soon turned hateful, and Ziva winced, recognizing the tone; it was a tone she'd used often in her teenage years. "I'm not spoiled! I'm not spoiled, Mom! I'm just as fresh and I'm virginal like the day I was born, Mom!"

"Stop it! Stop it!"

"I'm a lovely virginal creature who wouldn't think of being spoiled!"

"What year was this made?" He met her gaze.

"Nineteen-sixty-one. Why?" They watched as the teenager stood and stepped out of the bathtub, her arms outstretched.

"But it was not allowed." It was his turn to look at her confused. "The nudity." He nodded.

"There was a scene where Natalie Wood was supposed to run down the hall nude, but they cut it, due to the Hollywood censors, but they left the bathtub scene. This was one of the first of its kind, really." She nodded, turning back to the film.

"I've been a good little girl, Mom! I've been a good little, good little, good little girl!" Ziva winced, hearing the exact same words she'd screamed at her own mother, in the exact same tone, at the tender age of sixteen. She scooted closer to him, until she was curled into his side, and they were tucked under an old fleece throw. "I've always done everything Daddy and Mommy tell me. I've obeyed every word. I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!" She swallowed, resting her head on his shoulder, trying to relax, even as Deanie's words continued to ring in her head.

To this day, Rivka still hadn't forgiven her.