Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Okay, technically, this is the last chapter of Buried.... Don't worry, I already have the fourth installment halfway written, I just need to edit the first... six chapters or so before I upload. Starts immediately after this, but there is also a small sub-story that takes place in its own right within it. But there is a surprise at the end of this one, and I hope to see you all back for the final installment in this little series.

Tim was on his feet and rushing to them when they returned to the bullpen. After a moment, Ziva set Asher down, whispered something to him, and gently pushed him towards his siblings. Then, she moved towards her husband, reaching up to lay her hands against his chest, tangling her fingers in the material of his shirt. She swallowed, gathering her courage.

"Look, I am sorry if I hurt you in all of this. It was never intended. Tim, I..." She reached up, taking his face in her hands. "I care too much about our... marriage. I do not want it to be awkward between us."

He pulled her close, pressing a soft kiss to he lips. "Hey, nothing's awkward between family. Okay?" She nodded, kissing him again and wrapping her arms around his neck.

She gave him a soft smile, reaching up to trace his features, even as one hand moved slowly over her body, caressing her curves and finding the subtle nooks and crannies he knew so well. Her dark eye searched his, and he propped himself onto his elbow, watching her in silent fascination. The woman lying beside him, who had just spent the last several hours screaming his name and now lay tangled in the sheets beneath him, was as content as he at that point.

Tenderly, he let her fingers trail along his jaw before coming to rest at his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to her fingers, his green eyes alight with a wave of emotions she knew were mirrored in her own. He smiled against her fingers, before gently nipping her index finger playful. He grinned and she narrowed her eyes, accepting the unspoken challenge. Without a word, she flipped them over so that she was straddling his waist, her long dark curls tumbling down her shoulders in a tangled mess.

His hands moved to cradle her waist, fingers moving to gently trace the faded silver-white marks on her belly, left from her pregnancies. They were small, slight, and hardly noticeable unless a person was searching for them, but Tim knew where they were. Though Ziva was back to her normal slender, flat shape, the marks were a reminder of the three beautiful gifts she'd been given.

"I have never liked them." She whispered, watching as he traced the streaks down her abdomen, beneath her navel. He briefly met her gaze.

"They're beautiful, Zi." His wife wrinkled her nose in disgust, and he chuckled. "Just... think of them as... your own art. So... you'll have a piece of our children with you always."

"Like your tattoos?" One slender eyebrow rose. He nodded, before sitting up and leaning close, pressing soft kisses to her belly. She giggled, reaching down to tangle her fingers in his hair. She watched in silence as he kissed her skin, letting his words settle into her mind. "I am sorry, Tim." He looked up at her.

"For what?" She swallowed, shrugging.

"For not wanting any more children." He shifted her off of him until she was laying beside him again, and turned to face. her.

"Where did this come from, Zi?" She sighed.

"I just... Zipporah is walking and... Asher and Liron are in school... I guess... I do not know... Asher just... I feel that I messed up with Asher." Tim sat up, shocked.

"What? God, Zi, no! Sweetheart, if anything, you've done wonderfully with Asher! You couldn't have messed up with Asher if you tried... Zi, honey, he loves you so much..." He stopped, suddenly realizing what this was really about. "This is about your father, isn't it? You don't blame yourself for having Asher, you blame yourself for... for letting him disown you..."

She met his gaze. "I just... what if I had done as he asked? What if I had lost the baby somehow? Or gotten an ab... abortion..." She choked on the word; though she had been five months along when her father found out, he had still ordered her to either figure out some way to lose the baby or go get an abortion. In the end, the thought of destroying her own child either way made her sick, and she'd refused. "And then I realize, that if I had done that, I would have lost my final link to you, and I could not have ever imagined living without you. Does that make me a bad mother, Tim? To even entertain horrible thoughts like that?" He shook his head, pulling her close.

"No, Ziva, sweetheart, that doesn't make you a bad mother. That makes you human."

"Ima?" She ignored the small hands shaking her and rolled over, burrowing into Tim's embrace. "Ima!" After a moment, the person rushed around the bed and reached for Tim's arm, shaking him. "Abba! Abba, wake up! Abba!" Finally, Tim turned, struggling to blink the sleep from his eyes as he awoke to find Asher beside him.

"A... wh... Asher... sweetheart, what are you doing up?" As he sat up, Ziva awoke, being jolted out of her husband's arms.

"Tim? It is... three in the morning, what is..." And then she saw her oldest by the bed. "What is wrong, my angel?" The little boy sniffled, biting his lip.

"Someone is at the door." He whispered. His parents shared a glance, before they both climbed out of bed, grabbing their SIGs. Tim turned back to Asher.

"Go wake up your brother, and go to your sister's room. You shut the door and you stay there, understood?"

"Yes, Abba." Without another word, he left, rushing to his brother's room. Once in the living room, Ziva grabbed Tim's hand, squeezing. He returned it, before reaching for the doorknob. He quickly looked through the peephole, confusion furrowing his brow.

"Tim?" But he stepped back, allowing her to look. "No, it... it cannot be..." She grabbed the door, pulling it open, gun raised. The man that stood on the other side raised his hands in surrender and stepped back. Ziva's mouth dropped in shock. "Michael? What... what are you doing here?"

Her former Mossad partner, Michael Rivkin, just gave her that familiar grin in response. "I am here to find your father, and kill him."