Ziva gave a massive sigh as she hauled herself up out of her car.

The Christmas holidays never ceased to amaze her. It was as if all the pent-up craziness and insanity inside people seemed to explode once a certain time of the year came along. Shopping malls were filled, gifts were being bought and the human race generally seemed to act like one big race car, zooming along with the gas pedal stuck to the floor.

She could understand it at least partly. She may not celebrate Christmas but that did not stop her from enjoying herself a little bit. Back when she first moved here, she would have thought letting one's guard down for a split second was the difference between life and death. Now, years later as an American citizen, she had definitely loosened up a bit. She had joined the team last night for a celebratory holiday dinner at Gibbs', where she could honestly say that she had had the most fun in a long time.

Of course, that had not not stopped Gibbs from pushing them to their limits today as though it was not Christmas Eve, much to Tony's chagrin. Still, they had gotten through it, and now everyone was leaving to spend time with their families. Except her- and Gibbs, of course.

Still, she had no plans to just head straight for her apartment. Tony had invited her to go for drinks but she had declined; she preferred to spend this Christmas Eve by herself. It was not that she did not enjoy her friends' company, but today she just felt like she needed a change.

Which was why she chose to select a small cafe to stop and try a special blend of Christmas coffee that she had heard from a friend was "to die for". Ziva had never heard that any type of food or beverage that could be described like that, but she was willing to try.

She entered the cafe and walked straight up towards the counter. "May I have one medium Christmas coffee, please?"

The cashier, a man in his late thirties with dark curly hair and a scruffy beard whose name tag identified him as 'Jack', cast his eyes down towards her neck. His mouth formed a tight straight line. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't do that."

"Oh," Ziva said disappointed. "They must have been more popular than I thought. Oh well, in that case, I will have a-"

"It's not about the amount of Christmas blend, ma'am," Jack replied coolly.

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "I do not understand."

"I can't serve you that brand of coffee."

"Why not?"

He folded his arms. "This particular coffee brand was made specifically for celebrating Christmas."

"Yes, and...?"

"Anyone who doesn't celebrate it can't appreciate how much it really means."

Ziva's eyes darted down to the tiny gold Star of David around her neck before narrowing again. "Are you telling me that you will not serve me that coffee... because I am Jewish?"

"Nothing personal, ma'am. Just doing what's best."

"No, you are not." Ziva leaned across the counter. "You cannot refuse service to customers based on their religion. It is against the law."

"Which law is that?" Jack asked, abandoning all pretence of professionalism. "The one that the government would like to make stating that we can't say 'Merry Christmas' anymore? Or the one that officially states this isn't a Christian country?"

"What are you talking about?"

Jack folded his arms again. "This country used to be a truly great one. You could wish someone Merry Christmas and not have to worry about having to apologize because they weren't Christian. Now look at it; you got people from every damn country, ethnic group and religion coming in here and trying to change the laws around here. Can't even display a Christmas tree for fear of offending someone." He pointed a finger at Ziva. "We fought to save your asses in Europe and how do you thank us? By making it so we can't even celebrate our own holidays here!"

Ziva's fingers itched to break the man's finger in multiple places. She was so busy focused on him that she didn't hear the door to the cafe open and someone enter. Apparently neither did the cashier.

"First of all, I suggest you calm down," Ziva said in a calm but dangerous tone. "Second, I am not trying to force my religion or culture on anyone. I came here to try a Christmas blend of coffee which a Christian friend of mine suggested I try. You are the one preventing me from taking her advice."

"Look lady, I don't care who your friends are. This is America; we don't say Happy Hanukkah here. We should only be able to say Merry Christmas, but no! Gotta say 'Happy Holidays'. Well, I for one am sick of it! This time of year is for this country to celebrate among its own citizens!"

Ziva's blood began to boil. "I am an American citizen."

"Yeah sure, lady. Look why don't you go to some Jewish store; I'm sure they got some kosher coffee or whatever the hell you Jews drink. This cafe is for Americans- real Americans, not some damn immigrant."

Ziva was very tempted to leap over the counter and teach the cashier some manners. In fact, she was running through her mind the best way to make his death look like an accident, when a slightly accented voice from near the entrance interrupted her thoughts. "And who decides who's a real American? You?"

Turning her head towards the door, Ziva stopped and then actually blinked in surprise at the sight of the interventionist. Walking deftly towards the counter was a tall young woman with tan skin and wearing a dark jacket and pants. But what really caught Ziva off guard was her head ware; covering all but her face was a black scarf. Ziva recognized it immediately as a hijab- a headscarf warn by Muslim woman.

The cashier named Jack evidently did too; he raised an eyebrow as he went said, "Miss, this matter doesn't concern you."

"It certainly does concern me!" The young woman protested. "You're refusing this lady service because of her religion. That's illegal, and what's more it's wrong!"

Jack narrowed his eyes, almost as though he was caught off guard by the sight of a Muslim defending a Jew. "Ladies, I'm going to have to ask you both to leave. You're making a disturbance."

"We are making a disturbance?" Ziva said incredulously. "All I wanted was some coffee."

"And all I wanted was a strawberry Danish," the Muslim woman added. "But after seeing who's serving it, I've lost my appetite. What's your problem anyway?"

"My problem?" Jack rose up, apparently at the end of any false politeness. "I'll tell you what my problem is! Ever since I moved to this city, I've seen nothing but weakness and the degradation of American values everywhere. Politicians trying to appease immigrants, selling out American values and culture to win votes! Immigrants, most of them probably illegal, running around everywhere! And the public just lets them! Everywhere I go, I hear people saying 'Happy Holidays'. We can't even celebrate the greatest holiday in this country without worrying about political correctness. It's disgusting!"

He pointed at Ziva. "You Jews come here and start controlling everything. The banks, the media- hell, I can't even watch the news anymore without hearing about 'how great an ally' Israel is! You launch your wars and then expect us to pay for it!"

He turned to the Muslim woman. "And you. You Muslims are all the same; coming here and then complaining our laws don't suit you. You bring your violent religion and culture here and try to sell us some story about Islam being peaceful. Bullshit! Personally, I don't care if your family kills you for dishonouring them, but you're not going to ruin the best holiday in this country... You know what? I don't care if it costs me business. I'm not going to serve a couple of un-American desert jockeys. Go back to wherever you came from and leave this country to real Americans!"

Ziva and the Muslim woman both watched as the man ranted. When it was finally over, both of them raised an eyebrow. "How ironic," Ziva said.

"What is?" Jack demanded.

"I came here wanting to try a drink that was specifically made for a Christian holiday. You said all we wanted was to stop you from celebrating Christmas, and yet I wished to try something that embraced this holiday."

"And I was trying to find a place I could come with my friends over the holidays to enjoy ourselves," the Muslim woman added. "A good many of them are not Muslim. I was strongly considering this place might be the one I was looking for. I can say now that I'll never be coming here again."

"And neither will I." Ziva turned to leave. "It is actually probably a good thing you have said what you have; I was planning on trying some sort of holiday special here. After everything I've heard, I think any drink made here would be quite undrinkable."

"Whatever," Jack muttered. "I wouldn't take your money anyway."

"You have the right to your opinion," Ziva said as the two women moved towards the door. "But that right comes with a price."

"I don't want your business."

"It's a good thing that in this country," the Muslim woman said, "you also have the right to be idiotic."

Ziva was barely able to suppress a grin. "Oh. And Merry Christmas, sir." She turned to her new companion. "After you."

"Thanks."

Outside the cafe, the snow had begun to fall as the last of the sunlight faded away behind the horizon. Ziva shivered and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Despite spending several years in the US, she still hadn't quite gotten used to the bitterly cold winters. It was a long cry from the warm Israeli climate.

Her companion noticed it as well. "I haven't quite gotten to the cold completely yet either," she said, wrapping her arms across her chest. "Winters in Cairo aren't nearly as frigid; after six years I still feel like I should be in a warmer climate."

"It is difficult to settle," Ziva agreed. Her time in Mossad had brought her to some cold climates, but it wasn't the same as living in one. "I am just glad to have dressed warmly."

The Muslim woman smiled. "You can say that again." She held out her hand. "My name's Sabeen by the way."

"Ziva," the former Israeli responded, shaking her hand. "Thank you for what you said in there. It was... nice."

Sabeen raised an eyebrow. "You're surprised a Muslim would come to the defence of a Jew?"

"No."

"Really?"

"No. Well... maybe some," Ziva admitted. "I am sorry, I do not mean that as an insult."

"It's okay. None taken."

"Tell me though, why did you get involved?"

Sabeen's eyes flickered to the ground. "I know what it's like to be treated differently because of my religion. I saw too much of that in Egypt... and now that I'm here, it's me who's in that position. I have friends at college who are Jewish that I respect very much. I couldn't let that happen here without saying something."

In listening to this, Ziva suddenly recalled something her father had once said when she was entering the Mossad:

'In Israel, you may see a Jew help a Muslim, but no matter where you are, you will never see a Muslim help a Jew'.

For a long time, Ziva had believed him, thinking that regardless of whether peace ever came between Israelis and Palestinians, they would never lift a finger to help anyone of Jewish heritage. Now, standing in the snow, on the eve of a holiday celebrated by neither religious group, she came to realize just how wrong he had been.

"Your name," Ziva said suddenly.

"What about it?" Sabeen asked.

"It is Arabic for 'follower of a different religion', is it not?"

Sabeen looked truly astonished. "How did you know that?"

"I am fluent in Arabic," Ziva replied. "And... I had a friend in Israel named Sabeen. She told me what it meant when we were children."

Right before she was killed in the crossfire between the PLO and the IDF.

Blocking out a series of violent images that rapidly assaulted her mind, Ziva managed a small smile. "It is a pretty name."

Sabeen smiled in turn. "Thank you. Yours is too."

The two women were silent for a moment. Then Sabeen spoke, "It's funny."

"What is?"

"Here we are, neither of us Christians, both trying to enjoy aspects of a Christian holiday- and we get accused of trying to sabotage that holiday. I thought I had escaped bigotry when I came here."

"Bigotry exists everywhere," Ziva replied darkly. "It is unfortunate, but... inescapable."

"Well," Sabeen gave a genuinely warm smile, "I am glad to have found someone who doesn't share that belief."

Ziva grinned. "As am I, my sister of Abraham."

The two clasped hands- warmly, friendly... sisterly.

"Allaah ma'aaki," Sabeen said to her.

Ziva bowed her head. "And to you as well."

A/N: Please review and give me feedback!

PLO= Palestinian Liberation Organization

IDF= Israel Defence Forces

Allaah ma'aaki= 'May God be with you' in Arabic

Even though I write this as a very non-religious person in a secular country (Canada), I have numerous friends of many varying faiths and respect them all equally.

People may notice I've been trying to write a friendship story between Ziva and a Muslim woman (always named Sabeen) a couple of times, but I've always deleted them because I didn't like the direction they were going. This is finally the one I'm satisfied with, and it's also I think my best effort on the subject.

Cases such as the one described in the story do happen in real life. I personally feel strongly about such issues and wanted to write a story which highlights the divisions which exist in every society. No offence is intended towards any religion.

To everyone who reads this- Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and have a great New Year!