Chapter 17

The snow was finally melting. Tim could say that he was glad to see the slush. Winter had lasted a long time. The last ten months had felt like ten years and a lot of that time had been winter. Not all of it, but a lot. Even Mark had agreed that winter was lasting longer than usual. Tim still didn't see much positive in the future, but he could say that he was honestly making an effort. It didn't change things really at the moment, but maybe it would in the future... a future which still seemed dismal and empty to him, and he could admit that it wasn't even so much because of Abby but it was because he'd given up everything worthwhile in his life. What was there left of the future when all he had waiting for him was nothing?

He sighed as he looked out the window at the slushy piles of snow. Here in town, he could even see some of the asphalt on the road. He couldn't help wondering what his house was like. He'd been away from it for weeks and it was the only home he had, even if it wasn't much of anything. It was better than nothing.

What now?

He really didn't know. And with Mark and Harris getting him to think about things again, he was having trouble with the fact that his life held pretty much nothing at this point.

He sighed.

It held nothing but he didn't want to put anything into it...while still hating that there was nothing.

"I can't even be consistent with being miserable," he muttered.

Then, he leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He'd never had either the option or the inclination to do absolutely nothing. He was always thinking, working, playing, doing something. There were rare times when he would just putter but even that wasn't doing absolutely nothing. At the same time, he was afraid of starting to do anything, afraid of what that might mean, what it might lead to.

Which left him sitting on the couch like he had been before but now acutely aware of the time passing. And it sucked.

The door opened and Mark came in.

"Okay, Tim. Time to go."

Tim sat up.

"Go? Where?"

"You'll see."

"I don't want to," Tim said.

"I know, but that's why you're going."

"Huh?"

"Remember that we already established that I can definitely pick you up and could probably bench press you. I'm not accepting no as an answer. Let's go."

Tim reluctantly stood up, but he wasn't wearing any shoes or a coat and Mark tsk-ed at him. Then, he picked up Tim's shoes and tossed them at him. Tim reluctantly put them on and then put on his coat as well because Mark looked willing to dress him if necessary. Then, he followed Mark out of the house and was surprised to see a large pickup instead of the snowmobile Mark had been driving all winter.

"What's this?"

"My truck. Get in."

Tim took a breath and did as he was told. Then, they were off. Mark said nothing. He just drove on the snow-covered roads, the snow banks piled up high on the sides of the road and patches of asphalt were all that revealed that a road actually existed under the snow.

After half an hour of driving, Tim really didn't get what was going on.

"Where are you taking me, Mark?" he asked.

"We're almost there and I'll bet my timing is perfect."

"Timing?"

"You'll see."

Tim was looking out the window and all he saw was melting snow and trees. He couldn't see that there was anything particularly needing timing at the moment. But after another twenty minutes, Mark was pulling off the road into the trees. It looked like he was just driving into snow.

"Uh... where are you going?"

Mark laughed.

"Don't worry."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Nope, it doesn't."

Another few minutes and Mark stopped the truck.

"Okay. Time to get out."

"What are we doing here? Wherever here is?" Tim asked.

"You'll see. It's not far."

"What is not far?"

Mark rolled his eyes.

"Let's go and you'll see."

Mark got out of the truck and Tim took a breath before following him. Then, he was tromping through slushy snow deeper than his shoes, getting snow in his shoes, getting his socks soaking wet and unsure how whatever they were doing could possibly be worth this.

It might have been the most normal he'd felt in a long time.

Then, the trees began to thin out as they walked downhill and before Tim knew it, they were at the shore of a small lake, facing west. There was still ice on the lake, but there were a few areas where the water could be seen.

The sun was dipping down toward the horizon. The clouds were turning beautiful shades of oranges and pinks, with a few deep purple hues as night came on.

"What are we doing here?"

"You've never seen Maine, Tim. You came here, but not to see it, but it's beautiful, even now as we're headed into the mud season. You need to see something beautiful, and there's not much that can outstrip a Maine sunset over the lake."

"But..."

"No. Just stand here and watch it. You'll even forget your wet shoes if you let yourself. Just watch the sunset."

Tim wanted to argue more, but he took a breath and watched the sun go down, watched the sky with its ever-changing hues. As he watched, he found himself entranced by the beauty of the setting sun. It was something so simple, but he hadn't seen it or anything like it in months, considering all that had happened before, maybe not even in a year.

It was beautiful, and for the first time in months, Tim allowed himself to enjoy it. There was still a large part of him that felt like he shouldn't be doing this, but the small voice was starting to get louder and more insistent. It was getting easier to listen to that voice.

The colors gradually faded as the sun dipped low.

"Well, Tim? What do you think of Maine?"

Tim glanced over and Mark was just looking out at the sky. For a moment, Tim allowed himself to consider the incongruity of a big hulk like Mark standing and enjoying the sunset. He just didn't look like the kind of guy who would do something like this. But then, Tim knew that he shouldn't cater to stereotypes. Jocks could still enjoy these kinds of things.

"It's beautiful," Tim said, softly.

There was a long pause. Then, Mark nodded and turned away from the lake.

"Well, let's get going. It's going to be dark soon and we don't want to be caught in the woods with no flashlight."

"What?" Tim asked, still in that moment of quiet contemplation.

"Time to go. It's no use standing here. There are too many clouds for stargazing... and besides, I'll bet your feet are freezing."

Tim looked down at his shoes and yes, his feet were cold now that he thought of it.

Mark laughed and turned Tim around.

"Come on. Back up the hill to the truck. Let's go."

Mark started walking and Tim was forced to follow along behind. It was definitely getting dark once they got back into the trees. Tim was tired and wet and cold by the time they got back to the truck.

"You know, Tim, you should really invest in some good snow boots."

"Too late for that now," Tim said.

"Maybe."

Mark got into the truck and Tim did as well. Mark put the heat on high with most of it directed toward the floor and Tim's wet feet.

"Take off your shoes and socks. You'll warm up faster."

Tim did as he was told and the drive back to Mark's place was quiet. When they got back to the house, Tim paused before getting out of the truck.

"Thanks, Mark," he said.

Mark smiled. "Anytime."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva could feel Oliver staring at her, waiting for her to start talking. They'd gone to dinner and now they were walking along river by the Jefferson Memorial in a silence that was growing steadily more awkward. Now that the moment was here, Ziva found that she didn't want to tell Oliver about her complicated history... but he still needed to know.

"Ziva?" Oliver asked. "Don't you have something to tell me?"

Ziva laughed a little and nodded but she didn't look at him.

"Well, just so you know, you're really starting to make me nervous, so whatever it is, could you please just tell me?"

Ziva took a breath and then stopped walking. She turned to face him.

"Oliver, I am not used to what you would call normal relationships. I did not grow up in any way that you would consider normal."

"Then, how did you grow up?" Oliver asked.

"Most of my family is dead. All I have left is my father... and most of the time I am not sure if he thinks of me as his daughter or as a weapon."

"What does that mean?"

"Oliver, you were raised to live a life that is simply productive. Your parents did not care what you did as long as you could get a job and be happy."

"Yeah."

"I was raised to be a killer, and before coming here, that is what I have been. Oliver, I joke but I am a killer," Ziva said, earnestly. "It was what my father wished me to be. Someone whose whole life would be about saving Israel from its enemies in any way possible. My half-brother, Ari Haswari..." She hesitated. Talking about Ari was still painful and the official record didn't show the truth of his death. She looked away from Oliver for the first time.

"Ziva?"

She looked back and saw no revulsion in Oliver's eyes. Only concern.

"Yes?"

"You are the one who thought it was important to tell me this stuff. If it's too hard, you don't have to."

"No. This is necessary."

"All right. Go ahead."

He took her hand and held it tightly.

"I loved Ari when we were growing up. Our sister Tali was killed in a suicide bombing and we never really healed from that loss. Tali was not raised as we were and it never seemed fair that she was killed. Ari comforted me then. But when Ari grew up, he grew to hate Israel. His mother was a Palestinian and he wanted nothing more than to hurt Israel in any way he could. And then... he killed Agent Todd for no reason other than to hurt Gibbs with whom he had fought before. It was not even for a cause any longer. Simply to give pain to another. And he almost killed Gibbs... but I shot him first," Ziva said. She took a long breath and let it out. "This... is why I am still here. I killed my brother to save Gibbs and... and this is the kind of life you are in when you are with me. Already, Mossad has appeared here, interrupting the life I have built. I never know when it may appear again. It may be that I will be forced to go back to that life, and I do not know who else might be... swallowed up in it. Oliver, I do not want that to happen to you. I do not want to see you living the life I have lived. The life I escaped when I came here."

There was a long silence as they stood there. Oliver's grip on her hand hadn't wavered at all. He looked her in the eye for a long time without looking away. For the first time, Ziva found that she couldn't read his expression. Then, he took a breath.

"Okay. Ziva, is there anything else you feel you need to tell me?"

"No. Everything else is just details."

He smiled. "Well, God is in the details."

"I thought the saying was the devil."

"Yeah, but that's never really made sense to me. Why would the devil care about the details of our lives? God is the one who cares. Anyway, I have a few questions."

"Of course."

"First... do you want to go back to Israel?"

"What?"

"Are you marking time here until you can go home or is this your home and you're afraid you might have to leave it?"

Ziva hadn't really thought about it in that way. Everything about her life over the last couple of years had been due to far too many chaotic factors that she had not really felt she could control. She had simply accepted the individual steps. ...but having Oliver ask the question, she knew instantly what the answer was.

"This is home... if it can be."

"Okay. Are you afraid of your father?" Oliver asked. "If you told him that you wanted to stay here in the States, are you afraid of what he might do?"

"No," Ziva said. She knew her father would be furious, that he might even choose to disown her, but she also knew that he had learned one lesson from Ari, and that was the danger of creating hatred. He had not managed Ari well at all and had completely missed his hatred of both him and Israel. He didn't want to do that again, especially not with his only remaining child.

"Okay. Would you want to become a citizen of the U.S.?"

Another question she had never even considered.

"I do not... know."

"You can hold dual citizenship if you wanted to. You could still be Israeli and also an American."

"Oh." There was some appeal in it, but she had never even thought about the possibility.

"Well, you don't have to answer that one if you don't know the answer," Oliver said. "I just have one more question."

"What is it?" Ziva asked. "Your questions have not been what I expected at all."

Oliver smiled. "I have to keep you on your toes. Otherwise, you might get bored with me."

"I would never."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that. So... my last question is this."

Oliver let go of her hand, put his hand in his pocket and then stepped back and knelt down in front of her. Even though it had never occurred to her as a possibility, Ziva could see where this was going in an instant. And for a crazy moment, she had the desire both to stop him before he could say the words and to cry for joy at what he was doing. But she didn't say anything. She just let it happen.

"I know this might be a little faster than you want and if so, I can wait, but Ziva, I can't think of the last time I was happier than I've been with you. What you've told me about your life hasn't changed my mind at all. In fact, I was so sure it wouldn't that I bought this." He held up a ring. "Will you marry me?"

"Oliver... are you sure about this?" Ziva asked.

Oliver laughed. "Ziva, you don't accidentally spend hundreds of dollars on a ring and propose to a person. It has to be deliberate, and I hope you trust me enough to know that I'm quite careful about making decisions."

He was still holding out the ring.

"Even with what I've told you?" she asked.

"Even then," Oliver said. "And my hands are going numb because the blood is draining out of them at an alarming rate. Could you make a decision?"

Ziva couldn't help but laugh and that broke through her shock and surprise.

"Oliver, it seems too good to be true, but yes. I will marry you."

"Good. Take this ring off my hands and put it on. I hope it fits."

Ziva put on the ring and it was a little loose, but not bad. The ring was very simple, but she could tell it was also high quality. The band was solid with a single inset small diamond.

"It is beautiful, Oliver."

"Well, I had to make it so that it wouldn't get in your way when you're out chasing the bad guys."

Ziva laughed again and then kissed him.

"I love you," she said.

"And I love you. No matter what your family is like."

Then, she hugged him.

"Thank you, Oliver."

"For what?"

"For loving me."

"Well, it was easy. Thank you for seeing more than a plain, chubby white guy."

"That was never what you were to me," Ziva said.

Things would likely be extremely complicated from now on, but she could honestly say that she was happy.

They could figure out the complications.