Ziva looked out the window at the rain, closing her eyes. She wished the window would open out to the rain-soaked harbor. The sky was black and the wind was strong. There was no way she was leaving this, no way at all.
The rain was everything. It rained the night she killed Ari, and it had the night before. There was a little rain falling in the aftermath of Gibbs' injuries, and the night Jenny died it was practically a monsoon.
The rain in Washington DC was much cleaner than the rain in Israel. For one it was less muddy, and anyhow, she was unaccostomed to rain at all, plastering her hair to her face, and her life to her heart.
When she ran from Gibbs' house in the middle of the night, her tears blending with rain all those years ago, the place she sought solace was the FDR memorial. Wandering around the heart of the city, one thing never changed.
The cherry blossoms that the rain brought down never ceased to tangle into her curls and perfumate the air. The lights on the alabaster and marble illuminated the rain. A tear fell down her cheek, and she bit back the urge to swear at her weakness.
And she remembered reaching into her shirt to take her locket. A gold circle with a picture of Ari, Tali and herself in its frame. The rain still falling, she ripped the chain off of her neck and sent it falling into the water along with the most important events of her life.
The cherry blossoms fell just the way that they had all those years ago, plastering the window. She smiled, her own hot tears still falling freely down her cheeks. She knew in her heart that the city was not marked in stone or concrete. It was marked in rain and sadness and life and love itself. Like her heart.
Her mouth curved into the slightest smile, deep with sadness and loss and grief. But it was a smile nontheless.
"Look. It's raining."