Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: There's a reason behind this chapter...

"I don't like this, Tim. It's getting more and more dangerous. It reminds me of Israel..." She sighed. "I thought we moved here to get away from the violence, not find more." She climbed to her feet, going to the kitchen counter and leaning against it as she stared out the window. Tim sighed. It had been nearly four months since Tim had made his promise to Asher on the beach that morning, and so far, they'd been able to keep it, but he didn't know for how much longer.

"Zi," He got up, going to her. "We moved here for a fresh start, we just happened to hit a bad point in-"

"A 'bad' point?" She asked, eyes widening. "No, Tim, a bad point is when you're stuck in an elevator thanks to a bomb that goes off in front of your office building! A bad point is when your father tries to murder your husband by throwing him into a glass table and then attempting to choke him to death! A bad point is killing two innocents because they get caught in the crossfire of the man you're targeting for killing your sister and mother!" Tears filled her eyes, and she pulled away, running a hand through her curls. "If I had wanted to live in this violence, I would have stayed in Israel!"

"So you wouldn't have come back with me if I'd asked?" He countered. She turned to him, shocked.

"What?"

"You heard me, Ziva."

"God, Tim, where the hell did that come from?"

"I don't know, maybe from when you fled with my children-"

"You are never going to let that go, are you?" She demanded.

"Why should I?"

"It was one mistake, Timothy! One moment of weakness, that I remedied, but all you do is hold it over my head, even years later!"

"I'm not holding it over your head!"

"Oh yes, you are!" She screamed. "My God, you cannot let things go, can you? I'm here with you, aren't I? Our children are here, we're a family, you and I, we're a team-"

"And here we go again, bringing up the 'team', like always." He put special emphasis on team with his fingers in quotes, and she narrowed her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that condescending bastard Gibbs-"

"Oh God, Tim! You're being childish! Act like an adult for once in your life!"

"I should act like an adult? Look who's talking! I wasn't the one who ran scared! I wasn't the one who rushed home to Israel when things got too hard to handle!"

"Don't you dare bring that up again, Tim!" She snapped, jabbing a finger in his chest.

"Why? Because you know you were in the wrong? You know you made the wrong choice? Ziva, you left me, you took my children- my children- and ran!"

"They aren't just your children!" She screamed, shoving him. "They aren't just yours! They're mine too! I was the one that carried them, that gave birth to them; I was the one that raised Asher alone until he turned eight and we came to America! Until then, you had no say in his life or the decisions I made! You didn't even know he existed until I showed up at NCIS that day! And if I hadn't, you would never even know about him!" She took a deep breath. "Maybe that would have been best."

He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her hard. "How can you even think something like that, let alone say it?"

"Let go of me!" She shoved him hard, stumbling back against the counter. Neither paid any attention to the kids in the living room, listening intently to every word. Tears slid down Asher's cheeks, and he took a deep breath; Zipporah sat on the arm of the sofa, wrapping her arms around her brother's neck from behind, resting her cheek on his head, and Liron sat beside his brother, taking his hand and squeezing gently. Devin sat on his other side, taking his other hand. Asher squeezed her hand once and pulled away, preferring to turn to his siblings for comfort. "Don't you touch me!"

"He's my son, Ziva!" Tim ground out. "I had a right to know."

"Not if I decided not to tell you." She replied, arms crossed over her chest as she paced back and forth beside the kitchen table.

"So what, if you hadn't, you'd still be in Israel? Still be in Mossad? Waiting for the next drone strike or suicide bomber to target Be'er Sheva or Tel Aviv?" She kept quiet, but her breathing had quickened. He shook his head. "Do you even know how deep you'd be in Mossad by now if you'd stayed?" She met his gaze.

"I would still be on the fringes." He laughed dryly.

"No you wouldn't. Your father would figure out some way to get you into the depths of that organization. And you'd be in so deep that you wouldn't be able to get out, and then what do you think would happen to our son?"

"My son, Timothy!" She screamed. "He is my son! Not yours!" She cried, flying into his personal space.

"He shares our DNA, Ziva! My blood is running in his veins as much as yours is! It took us both to create him that night, Zi! It took us both to create all three of them!" She narrowed her eyes, studying his face.

"He is still. My. Son." She growled, pulling away. "Whether you helped me create him or not, he is still my son!" She returned to her pacing, running a hand through her hair. "You may be his father, but I raised him those first eight years of his life. I taught him to walk, and how to write his name, and to speak and I was the one there to scare away the monsters and kiss his bumps and scrapes when he got hurt, not you! Me! It was me! It's always been me!"

Tim took a deep breath, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. A moment passed, before he glanced down at his hand, studying the ring he wore; the two stones that symbolized the joining of their cultures, their lives, their souls, as one. Sighing, he removed the ring, watching the stones gleam in the light of the kitchen. And then, with the same calm he'd possessed when he laid his badge on Vance's desk that day, he set the ring on the kitchen table in front of her. Ziva watched him, her gaze darting from the ring to her husband and back.

"What are you doing? Tim, what are you doing?" He moved past her, grabbing his jacket from off the back of the chair at the table. Silently, he pulled it on, moving past her, but she grabbed his arm. "Timothy!" He turned back to her, searching her face before pulling away.

"You're right, Ziva. We shouldn't have done this. I should have let you stay in Israel with the kids." He thought a moment. "Or maybe, you should have just stayed in Israel with Asher all those years ago. Save us both the heartache." Then he pulled away, going to the front door. She stared at the ring for a moment before following.

"Timothy! Where are you going? Wait!" He turned back to her.

"Going for a walk." He replied, pulling the door open and stepping out.

"Tim!" She bit her lip, as the door clicked shut behind him. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she choked on a sob, before turning and rushing upstairs. The bedroom door slammed minutes later, leaving the kids alone in the living room, save for Jethro. Asher took a deep breath, before getting off the sofa, pulling away from his siblings. He rushed from the house, following his father.

"Abba! Abba, wait! Abba!" But Tim didn't look back, and soon Asher was forced to stop when he lost sight of his father. He didn't hear Devin or the others rush to him. Choking on a sob, he turned, wrapping his arms around Devin and burying his face in her shoulder, sobbing.