I really should have thought of a better title. Anyway...enjoy! Reviews always greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer - I do not own anything. Unfortunately.

The old man sat on his usual bench underneath the cherry tree. He always sat here, every day except when the weather forced him inside. And today was a beautiful spring day. Flowers were starting to bloom in the carefully maintained beds, and the blossom on the tree above him was peeking out, as if testing the weather before committing itself. There was still a slight chill in the air, but it was warm enough for him to just wear a jumper instead of a coat as he sat and watched. That was all he ever did – sit and watch as life walked, cycled, ran or rollerbladed its way past him in the park. He recognised most of the regulars, and they were used to him. Some of them even nodded a greeting as they passed, but none of them knew his name. He didn't mind. It passed his days.

Today, though, it was not one of the regular joggers or dog walkers that caught his attention, but a couple walking slowly along the path, hand in hand. He had not seen them before. The man looked like a military type, silver hair in a Marine-style cut, dark jacket open over a white t-shirt. He looked older than the woman who was with him. Her long dark hair melted into chocolate in the sunlight, and she had unbuttoned her green wool coat to reveal jeans and a black blouse underneath. They both carried takeout cups of coffee, which they sipped slowly as they walked. He watched as the man gestured to the empty bench just along from his, and they altered course to sit down. As they did so, the man slipped his arm around the woman's shoulders.

'You ok?'

The woman nodded. 'Fine'. She sipped her coffee and leaned back, raising her face to the spring sun. 'I am looking forward to a weekend off though'.

The old man never meant to listen to the conversations going on all around him. But he was always amazed at how freely people spoke in such a public place, as if they had no idea there was anyone else in the park. He was convinced that some amorous couples did forget where they were. Some conversations he tried to block out, others he happily followed. He wondered which type this one would be.

'Are you hungry?'

The woman had an accent that he could not immediately place.

The man shook his head.

'You? Get you a sandwich if you want something'. He pointed to the kiosk a little way down the path.

'No, I am fine. After the past couple of days I seem to have lost my appetite'.

There was a pause as they drank more coffee. The old man was about to mentally file this conversation under 'one to forget' and tune out, when the woman spoke again.

'Do you think he will cope? Lieutenant Warren?'

The man sighed. 'He'll have to, Ziva'.

Ziva. It was an unusual name. Israeli? Could be the accent.

'I think I would have to sell the house'. The woman named Ziva took another mouthful of coffee. 'Every time I walked into the living room I would see the body'. She shuddered.

The man looked at her in surprise.

'This case really bothered you'. It wasn't a question, more of a statement. His companion shrugged, and looked around her, at the children on the swings in the playground, the small queue at the kiosk for coffees, businessmen walking past on their short lunch breaks.

'It seemed so….unfair'. A pause. 'Six months on deployment. All he wanted to do was see his wife again. Alive. Not butchered in the living room by his father'.

'Not something anyone wants to see'.

The old man turned slightly so that he could better see the couple. Their conversation intrigued him. And it had been a boring day so far. He saw the woman – Ziva – turn to face her companion.

'Do you think I am being unprofessional?'

He laughed softly, and shook his head, his hand now stroking her hair.

'No, Ziva. Just human'.

They were silent for a while. They had finished their coffees, but seemed in no hurry to move on. The old man had noticed that no one really seemed in a hurry that particular day. Not even the businessmen. Must be the sunshine.

'He said they were soul mates'. The woman's quiet voice cut across the old man's thoughts on the vagaries of the weather.

The man – she still had not called him by name – did not answer, but dropped his hand back down to her shoulder, tilting the coffee cup in his other hand to check there was none left.

'Do you ever think about soul mates, Jethro?'

Jethro. So that was his name. The old man watched as he sighed and looked around him as Ziva had done a moment before. He appeared to be a man of few words. Someone who did not like talking. The old man wondered whether he would even reply.

'I try not to'. Ziva looked at him, but his gaze was still turned away from her.

'Most people are lucky to find one at all'. His voice was distant. 'Thought I'd already had mine'. He turned back to Ziva and, to the old man's surprise, there was a half-smile on his face, tender and soft.

'Then you came along. Didn't realise I'd spent all those years looking for you til I found you'. He reached out to stroke her cheek before letting his hand drop into his lap.

'Don't like to push my luck by thinking about it too much'.

Ziva smiled, and leaned in for a kiss.

'I think about it enough for both of us', she admitted. 'Sometimes I still cannot quite believe that you want to be with me'.

Jethro smiled again. 'Got no choice but to be with you'. He stood up and extended a hand which Ziva took, reluctantly leaving the bench to head back….where? Work, the old man reckoned. A last few hours of paperwork, probably, before the weekend.

'No choice?' She raised her eyebrows, and Jethro shook his head.

'Don't have a choice when it comes to soul mates'.

She laughed and fell into step beside him, his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist as they walked on. The old man leaned back and smiled to himself as he watched them go. The day was suddenly looking a little brighter.