Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: And now, the rest of the team learns Tim and Ziva's story...

Tim took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. He looked over Jenny's head, staring out at the National Mall, miles away. It was not yet oh-six-thirty, and darkness still held the world in sleep. He swallowed. "I was born in Germany, six years after the Munich Massacre at the Olympic Games."

"I don't think she meant from that begin-" But Abby smacked the back of Tony's head. Tim ignored them.

"Timmy?" Everyone turned, to see Sarah McGee enter. "I... I got a call from NCIS, and when I got here, the receptionist directed me up here." Shepard stood, going to Sarah and shaking her hand.

"I called you, Ms. McGee."

"Why?" Sarah asked, confused, as she took in the others there.

"Because I think you need to hear this." After a moment, Sarah turned to her brother.

"Timmy? What's going on?" He sighed.

"You need to know the story, Sarah. The whole story."

"What story, Timmy? I know-" He shook his head.

No, you don't. You only know what Ziva and I were willing to divulge last night. But it goes deeper than that." She nodded, before taking a seat at a chair at the conference table, next to Ziva, who'd taken a seat and pulled Asher onto her lap. Tim glanced at his sister once, before turning back to the window. He moved close, stopping by the window and leaning on the ledge. "Sar, do you remember our trip to Munich? When you turned eight?" She thought a moment.

"Barely, why?" He glanced at her. "We went to a memorial, for the eleven Israeli athletes killed at the seventy-two Olympic Games." She swallowed.

"Okay? But what does that have to do with this?" He turned to her.

"It has everything to do with this!" Sarah reeled back; she'd never seen Tim so angry. "Our father had taken the position of American Ambassador eight years before. Mom and Dad had been in Munich when the Israeli athletes were murdered by the Black September group. Dad had tried to strike up peace talks with the Israeli Prime Minister, Golda Meir. Nothing worked. They took no deals, made no negotiations, and those athletes paid the ultimate price. Israel turned to Mossad to take out the men who planned Munich. Our father had watched as one by one, the men were murdered." He took a deep breath, looking around. "When my father was called back to America by the president, I was two; Sarah, you hadn't been born yet-" He stopped.

"You were born in Lebanon in eighty-three. We were one step closer to Israel, which is where Dad wanted to be. He wanted to strike up peace talks with the Israelis; Munich was always in the back of his mind; they were sons, fathers, brothers, and they needed peace, according to him. When we returned to America, he requested over and over to go to Israel, and finally, in ninety-six, his wish was granted. That's all I heard growing up, was how Israel needed peace, and by giving Israel peace, so would the rest of the world receive it. I got so sick of hearing him talk about it, that I was glad when I got into MIT. And then he pulled me out of school, and shipped us all over to Israel." He turned to his sister. "Honestly, Sarah, I hated it. I know you loved it, you had a great time, especially when you met Talia, but I... all I wanted was to be back at school."

"But Timmy, you always said that you loved it there-"

"I only said it to make Dad happy, Sar. Because he wouldn't quit! And he... he tried so hard to groom me to be like him, but I never liked politics. I never have and I never will. The only bright spot was the University. Books, endless books, I was in heaven. But while you loved the places and the people, I hated it. All of it. The places, the people, the dust and the dirt. The night we stepped off the plane, and into the embassy, when we were greeted by Director David and his family-"

"Ah, Ambassador McGee, welcome to Israel." He watched as the two men shook hands. Eventually, his gaze moved from his father and the Deputy Director, to the two young girls standing back behind them slightly. One was about ten or so, but the other one-

"You took to Tali like a fish to water, Sarah. The girl was cute, curled pigtails and overalls. But the other one." He turned, glancing at Ziva, something lighting his green eyes and he grinned quickly at her.

"These are my children, Ari, Talia, and Ziva." Quickly, he shook hands, only to have the older girl ask,

"Do you really barbecue pigs in fire pits in your backyards?"

He chuckled. "She asked me about barbecuing pigs like Hawaiians do. I thought she was the most annoying, juvenile, insufferable person I'd ever met, and I was never so happy to be shuffled off to the apartment so I wouldn't have to answer her question. That doesn't mean that she left me alone. Followed me around every chance she got and asked me everything she could think of. From... how hard it was to surf, to what it was like to eat pork chops." He shook his head, turning back to the window. "I hated her, but I won't deny that there was an attraction."

"Timmy-"

"Do you remember the day we stopped at that café and had pie and coffee, Sarah?" Tim asked, turning to his sister. She thought a moment, before nodding slowly.

"Vaguely." He pulled something out of his pocket- for some reason, he'd grabbed the photo Ari had given him before leaving the apartment today- and laid it on the director's desk.

"We went out, and Deputy Director David sent his son to take us, to babysit us, actually. His little sisters had tagged along." After a moment, Sarah got up and went to the desk, picking up the photograph. She stared at it for a moment, a small smile lighting up her face. She turned to Tim.

"We'd ordered pie, and I'd gone to take a bite, and ended up with whipped cream all over my nose. You were laughing at me." He nodded.

"What's the point, McGee?" Gibbs asked. Tim sighed, turning to his boss. He took the photo from Sarah and held it up.

"This photo was taken a week before Ziva and I slept together. It was taken a week before our son was conceived."