Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Sorry about the confusion, guys. I figured I'd try this whole... writing NCIS fan fiction thing... Ev told me earlier that I could post it to Zani's... um... profile, that's the word... sorry, I'm tired. Zani kept us both up last night...

So... this is just a little story I've decided to work on in between trying to decipher my brother's atrocious handwriting (I'm serious, it's not even chicken scratch, he might as well just sign his name with an X, because you can't read it) on Past Lives, and... it's mainly just to help get my mind off the crap my future sister-in-law is going through. There's only so much I can do for her, after all. But I got the okay from Ev to post this on Zani's profile, and he said when she gets back into writing, she'll want to finish writing it, but that I can get it started at least.

So this is... my McGiva story for you all. Hope this chapter clears a little of it up for you. If you have any questions or confusion... don't hesitate to let me know.

- Licia

Thanks to Bookloverz22, Reader and sintija2001 for reviewing 1.

Kathleen McGee looked up to see her son dash into the apartment, Ziva David behind him. "What have you two been up to, loves?" She asked, handing each a glass of juice.

"Timmy!" Sarah McGee, the youngest of the two siblings rushed to her brother, holding out the picture she'd colored. Ziva and Timmy shared a glance, before he said,

"Ziva and I got married!"

A plate shattered, and Kathleen quickly knelt to pick up the broken pieces, before putting them in the trash as opposed to the cupboard. "Wh... what do you mean-"

"Mama? We were playing house." He replied, worried thanks to the look in her eyes. "We can't play house if we don't get married first."

A moment passed before she relaxed. "Playing house?" The children nodded. "Okay. Good. Well... go... go play." She watched the two quickly dash off to Timmy's room, Sarah trailing behind, her coloring book and crayons held tightly in her small fists. Once they were in Timmy's room, the two six-year-olds clambered onto the bed, collapsing among the dark blue blankets and pillows. There were posters of stars and space ships on the walls, as was typical with little boys; books littered the floor and were stacked haphazardly on the bookshelves. A moment passed, before Timmy glanced at his friend.

Ziva David was a natural-born Israeli Jew; the oldest daughter and second child of Eli David, a high-ranking officer in the Israeli Mossad. Unlike Tim's father, the young American Ambassador to Israel, Eli was focused more on serving his country than his family. Not to say that Timmy's father was entirely focused on his family- John McGee loved his family, sure, but he was a highly important man...

But of everyone in the David household- besides Ziva- Tim liked Rivka most. Ziva's mother was good friends with his own mother- she was kind and loving and friendly, so unlike Eli. Timmy always thought Rivka and his own mother, Kathleen, were cut from the same cloth- both sweet, both loving, both gentle. So unlike the men they'd married. The boy sighed; he was never going to be like his father, or Ziva's. If he ever got married, he'd be nice and loving and gentle, and spend more time with his family than at work.

"Timmy, picture!" He sat up as Sarah rushed into the room, having followed them. The four-year-old held the picture of Cinderella in her purple dress and green hair out to her older brother, but he rolled his eyes.

"I don't want it, Sarah. I already have a picture of Cinderella you colored for me." The girl's face fell, and Timmy sighed. He loved his little sister, but there were days when she got on his nerves.

"What is it?" Ziva sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. The four-year-old held the picture out to her; she glanced at it and then at her. It was a drawing from a coloring book, of Cinderella dancing with Prince Charming, in a purple dress and green hair. "It is very pretty, Sarah." The younger girl beamed. "Can I keep it?" A moment passed, before Sarah nodded and skipped out of the bedroom, still holding tight to her coloring book and crayons.

The two older children shared a glance. She studied him; Timmy was her best friend. For some strange reason, she and the Ambassador's son had hit it off right away, that first day of school, when the teacher had introduced him to the class. He was three months older than her in age, not that Ziva cared. No, what she liked most about Timmy was the fact that he was different. He wasn't Jewish, or Palestinian, or fully American, even- his father was from America, but his mother had been born and raised in County Derry, Northern Ireland. In fact, Timmy himself had been born in Derry, as had Sarah, and it was partially because of the violence in the North that the family had moved to Israel- well, John's job had been the main reason, but still, when they weren't living in America, with John's mother, Penny, they were in Ireland, with Kathleen's family.

Timmy was sweet, and funny, and her polar opposite in personality, and yet, they got along perfectly. While other kids often picked on him because he was quiet, Ziva found that the quiet was just one aspect to his personality. Just as she wasn't always the troublemaker that teachers often made her out to be. After she folded the picture and put it in her pocket, she returned to laying among the pillows, staring at the ceiling- but then her gaze moved to the ring on her finger. It was pretty, and fit her hand just right. "Timmy?"

He joined her, staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah, Ziva?"

"You will be my best friend forever, right?"

He met her gaze, giggling. "The bestest."