Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Thanks to skyjadeprincess for reviewing 35; Sazzita for reviewing 32, 33, and 35; None for reviewing 32; mcgeeksgirl for reviewing 33; Reader for reviewing 32, 33, 34 and 35.

Small feet tiptoed towards the bedroom, the door was silently pushed open. The intended target was sound asleep; the other was nowhere to be seen. Good. It would be much easier to subdue one instead of both. After glancing around quickly, they moved to the edge of the bed and climbed on. After making sure they had their balance, they turned to their intended victim. Just the steady breathing sleep brought. Perfect. Getting ready, they bent their knees, prepared to jump, pushed off, flew towards their target, and-

"Asher Malachi! Do not even think-"

Too late.

Tim was jolted awake, not by his alarm or the ringing of his cell indicating a murder to be solved, but by a small, forty-three pound eight-year-old landing on him, followed at exactly the same time by Ziva's screech as she stepped out of the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel.

"I have you, Abba! You are under arrest!" Asher cried, holding Tim's hands down at his wrists. It took several minutes for Tim to catch his breath, but when he did, he glanced at Ziva, who was tapping her foot in annoyance.

"For what?" He asked breathless.

"All right, this is getting ridiculous." Ziva cut in before Asher could answer. She moved around the bed, removing her son's hands from Tim's wrists. "Asher, look at me. Asher Malachi, look at me." She grabbed his chin, forcing her son to meet her gaze. "What have I told you about jumping on people?" Then, she lifted the little boy off his father, setting him back on his feet by the bed before going to the dresser.

"What exactly did I do?" Tim asked, as he sat up and grabbed his phone to check the time. Asher turned to Ziva.

"He broke a promise." He pouted. Ziva 'hmmed' softly as she got dressed.

"What promise did I break?" Tim asked confused, as Asher turned to him.

"You promised that I could go to work with you and Ima today. And you broke it." He pouted, crossing his small arms over his chest. Tim sighed.

"Asher, it is oh-four-hundred; I don't go in until oh-six-hundred, oh-seven-hundred at the latest. Besides, Agent Gibbs gave me yesterday and today off to spend with you and Ima." He replied, setting his phone down and reaching for his son, who refused to move until Ziva bumped him forward gently with her hip. The child stumbled slightly, before turning to his mother, who nodded.

"Oh. He did?" Tim nodded.

"Yeah, he did." Once he got close enough, Tim lifted him onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his son, brushing his dark curls off his forehead. "He said I could have Monday and today off, so that I could spend time with you and help you get adjusted to living in America." He brushed a soft kiss against his son's hair. "He told me to spend as much time as I possibly could with you, before you grow up and don't need me or Ima anymore." Asher glanced at Tim, surprised.

"I will always need you, Abba!" He cried, leaning up to press a kiss to his father's cheek. Tim chuckled, meeting Ziva's eyes as she gazed at her boys.

"Now, why don't you let Abba get dressed, and you go get dressed, and we will go out and get breakfast, okay?" Ziva asked, kneeling in front of her son. The boy nodded, sliding off the bed and rushing to his room. Tim chuckled, watching him go, before turning back to Ziva, who crossed her arms over her chest. "Do not look so sheepish, Tim, you are doing wonderful." He sighed, reaching for her and tugging her onto his lap.

"Not as good as you, but I am learning." She chuckled, tracing his features.

"Ken. And you are learning very fast." She searched his gaze, before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Soft laughter reached their ears, and they broke apart.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Asher glanced between his parents, thinking. They sat at a small café table in downtown Georgetown, enjoying the warmth of the small café. His answer surprised them both.

"Are Ima and I Americans?" Tim's eyes widened as he met Ziva's gaze.

"Wh... where would... where did that come from, Asher?" Tim asked, leaning towards his son. The boy glanced between his parents.

"The lady at the counter asked what my... hermitage was."

"Heritage." Tim gently corrected. "And why did she ask that?" The boy shrugged.

"She said she liked my eyes." Tim nodded, meeting Ziva's gaze.

"She is not the only one." Ziva whispered, grinning softly. Asher waited patiently for Tim to answer. The agent sighed, sitting back in his chair, thinking. After a moment, he glanced at his son.

"Yes, you are American, Asher. Because, I'm American. I'm an Irish-American. My mother's side of the family is from Boston, but my father's family is from Ireland. So, you have Irish and Jewish Israeli in your blood." The boy glanced at Ziva, confused.

"So are you American, Ima?" Ziva shook her head sadly.

"No, my angel, I am not. I am Israeli." She sighed. "I was born in Israel, like you were. Both sides of my family are Israeli Jew, which means you have Israeli blood in your veins. Jewish blood." The boy nodded, but they could tell he wasn't understanding.

"But... why am I American and Ima is not?" He asked, turning to Tim, who sighed.

"You are American, because I am American."

"Abba is an American, my angel, which means you are, by birth, an American citizen. Just as you are an Israeli citizen by birth, because I am an Israeli."

"But we are in America now, Ima. Does that make you an American now too?" Ziva shook her head.

"No, it does not."

"Then," Asher turned to his father. "what happens if she is not a citizen?" Ziva glanced at Tim.

"If I do anything very, very bad, then I will be sent back to Israel, and you will stay here with Abba." She whispered. Asher's green eyes filled with frantic, frightened tears. He turned to Tim.

"They cannot send her away, Abba! Do not let them, please! We have to make Ima American!" His lower lip began to quiver. "How can Ima become an American?" Tim glanced at Ziva, before scooting his chair out and letting Asher climb into his lap. The boy buried his face in his father's shoulder, frightened tears sliding down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around his son, glancing at Ziva.

"Shh. It's okay. Ima isn't going anywhere, Asher, I promise. She's staying right here, with us. Okay? That's a promise. Hey, hey, look at me." The boy pulled away to stare into his father's eyes. Gently, Tim brushed a tear off his cheek. "Ima is staying here. I won't let anything or anyone take her away from us."