Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: There is a reason why I wrote it this way...

This had to be a mistake.

Eli David, the Director of Mossad, the man who had ripped him from Ziva when they were kids, the man who'd disowned his daughter and grandson before the boy was even born, who'd tried to kill his youngest daughter and had turned his only son into a monster, the man who was responsible for this upheaval of their lives, was sitting in his car- in Tim's car- with the heater running, waiting for him, expecting a kiss hello, like he hadn't done all he could to destroy his children's lives.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Tim growled, green eyes narrowing. Eli just studied his son-in-law.

"I am here to talk, Timothy." After a moment, Tim slammed the door and nodded for Eli to follow. Once they were both on even ground, Tim led the way, making sure to stay within sight of NCIS. Once they reached the bridge the overlooked the Washington Monument, Tim turned to Eli, gun still out and at the ready.

"Talk, now." Tim ground out, keeping a good distance between himself and Eli. The older man studied him, chuckling softly.

"You are exactly as I remember. Stubborn, used to getting your own way. The perfect bad example for my daughter."

"I never got my own way. That was Ziva. She's always gotten her own way, because I could never deny her anything. And I've never been a bad example. You have." Eli raised an eyebrow and stepped closer; Tim raised his gun, stepping back, making it clear he wasn't to get any closer.

"I am aware you would think that way. Look at who is calling the pot black."

"Kettle." Tim automatically corrected. "Pot calling the kettle black." He took a deep breath. "And I have only ever tried to protect her. She's my wife, she's the mother of my children. I'm not going to let anyone hurt her, especially not you." The older man chuckled, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, I know, she gave birth to your bastard." Tim had to force himself to loosen his grip on the gun. "And... that you have another one. Another son. And a daughter."

"You keep away from them. I find out you've touched even one of the hairs on either of their heads, and-"

"And you will kill me?" Eli interjected. "Yes, I am well aware of your hatred towards me, Timothy. But despite our differences, you are still my son-in-law, you are still married to my daughter, and though she turned her back on her country-"

"Israel was not her country, it was the place she was born, yes, it was the place where she gave birth to my son, yes, but it was not her country and it was not her home. America is her home."

"She is still my daughter, they both are."

"She has a name." Tim ground out through clenched teeth. "They both do. They both have names." Eli glared at him.

"I am aware. I gave it to her. To both of them. Just as you gave your children their names." He stepped closer to the younger man. "Tell me, Timothy, how does it feel, to have your children look at you, with such pride in their faces? With such love and respect? You are lucky. When they turn their backs on you, you will cling to those memories and dream of having them back."

"My children will never turn their backs on us, because Ziva and I will never treat them the way you treated her and her siblings. We will never treat them the way my sister and I were treated. Never!"

Eli chuckled softly. "I want them to look at me like they used to when they were little girls. Such pride, such love. Back when they were children. Before their innocence was stolen from them."

"The only one who stole their innocence was you, Eli. You pushed both Ziva and Tali away when they didn't fit into your perfect mold, and caused them to turn their backs on you. You are to blame, not me, and not anyone else. Just yourself."

"And tell me, Tim, how did it feel, when your own father turned his back on you? When he beat you with that fireplace poker, after discovering that you'd slept with my daughter?"

"I was finally free; I didn't have them telling me how to live my life, I didn't need to worry about pleasing them. I could focus on my own path in life, and finding Ziva. And she found me."

Eli nodded, watching his son-in-law. "Yes, she did. And she married you, and you gave her two more children, obviously."

"What do you want, Eli?" Tim asked, not trusting the older man.

"Let this be the first step towards my redemption." He replied, holding out a hand. Tim glanced at it, and returned his grip on his gun. He shook his head, definitely not trusting the man now. Ziva's words echoed in his head; the conversation they'd had the night before concerning her father, as they'd slipped into bed and settled down.

"Your sins are too great." His whisper was soft, and he struggled to keep the tears in his eyes at bay as he thought of how the Ambassador hadn't even tried to seek redemption; and deep down, a small part of Tim's heart had wanted to hear Eli's words come from his own father's mouth. Whether it was truth or lie, at least Eli had said them; his own father hadn't uttered so much as a word in regards to redemption in his and Sarah's direction. He swallowed. "You are better off dead."

Eli met his son-in-law's gaze. "And your wife will be better off once I take her back to Israel with me, to be buried beside her mother and brother." And then, without a word, he turned and left, leaving Tim speechless and shaking, tears slipping down his cheeks.