AN: Sorry for the delay in posting, folks. I had a nasty case of Food poisoning on Friday & spent all of yesterday in bed. Hope this makes up for it & you all are enjoying the holidays, no matter what you celebrate.
The snow was only a few inches deep and it reflected the bright green, red, white, yellow and blue lights with brilliant sparkle.
"I do not understand Christmas," Ziva said, staring at the holiday decorations lining the street.
"What's to understand?" McGee questioned as the four colleagues walked through the annual Holiday Lights display at Seneca Creek State Park in Gaithersburg Maryland.
The park's display of lights was popular in the region but never as crowded as the National Zoo's display; none of the group had a desire to be jostled and pushed.
They had spent all week chasing through crowds as a kidnapper targeted Marines' children in the local malls. The holiday was the prime time to get lost in the shopping rush and all but Abby sported bruises from being elbowed in a shopping crowd.
"This holiday," Ziva continued. "Is represented not by the baby Jesus, whose birthday it is, but by a fat old man in a red suit?"
McGee nodded. "Yep."
"A man who enslaves elves to work all year making toys for children?"
"Uh huh," Tony replied.
"Not enslaved!" Abby pipped in.
"They're not refugees like Oompaloompas, Abby," Tony countered. "Santa enforces some very questionable labor laws."
Ziva frowned. "What is an Oompaloompa?"
McGee smirked and Tony groaned. "I have obviously failed in my movie responsibilities."
"Oompaloompas asside," Tim offered, "The Santa legend is more a concept, Ziva. Spirit of giving, goodwill towards men, and all that."
Abby grinned, bouncing on her toes and her pigtails flopping from the sides of her Santa-hat. "Oh! Oh! 'Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!'"
The Israeli waved her hand, trying to rewind the conversation. "What is an Oompaloompa and who is Virginia?"
Tim set a gentle hand on Ziva's shoulder. "American pop culture. I'll email you some links."
Ziva nodded, the tips of her curls bobbing underneath her winter cap. "Thank you."
Tony grumbled: "Santa's was coined up by some marketing guru to get people to buy stuff."
"Tony! That's not true!" Abby pipped up, glaring at Tony. She turned her bright eyes to Ziva. "In fact, it was Rudolph who was the marketing campaign! Our version of Santa is based on the Dutch legend of Sinter Klaus. He made his way to American culture in the 17th century when Dutch settlers came to New York. Rudolph," she continued, "was a marketing creation for Montgomery Ward stores in 1939; they gave away free coloring books to customers! By the end of the year, over two-point-four million copies of the Rudolph story had been distributed. That was with a war going on and paper rations, too!"
McGee turned a quizical eye at the forensic specialist. "How do you remember all this stuff?"
Abby smiled and linked her arm through his, snuggling close in companionship. "I am a wealth of information, McGee! Go ahead- ask me anything!"
"I see," Ziva said, interrupting Abby's demonstration of her many-skills. "So really Santa does not break child-labor laws, but instead has refugee elves. And Rudolph really is for selling clothes?"
McGee chuckled. "Forget the icons, Ziva. They aren't important. Christmas is just about spending time with your family, about celebrating another year of love and joy, and... a little consumerism never hurt anyone. And it helps the American Economy stay afloat. Businesses budget for the holiday season – if people stopped shopping, our economy would tumble like a bad house of cards."
"That's pretty much it, McGrinch. Well put." Tony offered a rare compliment McGee's way.
Ziva smiled as she felt Tony slid his arms around her shoulder and pull her tightly to him as they continued to walk through the various light displays at park.
They turned around a grove of trees, finding yet another beautifully set display of lights, this time depicting Santa, his reindeer and his sleigh.
"And this! This I do not understand," she said, gesturing to the reindeer. "Why do you only show nine reindeer?"
"That's all there are," Tim replied, frowning as he mentally re-counted. "Nine."
"Eight originals," Abby supplied.
"Plus the afore-mentioned marketing genius, Rudolph," Tony added.
Ziva shook her head. "No. There are ten."
"Uh, no," Tim said, his brow furrowing even more. "Dash, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen," he said, counting them off on his fingers.
"Comet, Cupid, Donder & Blitzen," Abby said, holding up four more fingers.
"Rudolph!" Tony supplied, holding up a remaining finger. "Nine!"
"There are ten!" Ziva said firmly. "You did not mention Olive."
As if on cue, all three frowned and asked "Olive?"
"Yes. From the song. Olive, the other reindeer."
"Are we thinking of the same song?" Tim asked just as Abby started to hum the bars to Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.
Ziva pipped in, singing the words gently. She slowed, enunciating clearly when she approached the lines she was thinking of. "....Had a very shiny nose. And If you ever saw it, you might even say it glows. Olive, the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names...."
When Abby's accompaniment trailed off, Ziva looked up and saw that Abby had stopped singing because she was too busy grinning unabashedly at Ziva. "What? What is so funny?"
Ziva turned and looked at Tony who had stepped away and was leaning against a light post, holding his stomach in silent laughter.
"McGee?" she asked, turning to her one reliable co-worker and was surprised to find him covering his eyes and shaking his head balefully.
Ziva shrugged, not understanding the humor, she turned and regarded the light display. "Frankly, I think it is mean of Olive to not let Rudolph play the games, but perhaps there are rules to reindeer games that require a not-shiny nose, yes?"
Tony stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her quickly. "Yep. Olive's so mean Americans don't even talk about her," he said, causing Tim's laughter to increase.
The probie lost his balance on a spot of black ice on the sidewalk and slipped, taking he and Abby to the pavement as they both let fly peels of renewed laughter.
"I do not see what is so funny about a mean reindeer. This is not a song appropriate for children if your culture is worried about bullying in schools," Ziva grumbled, not enjoying being laughed at.
"Olive. The other reindeer," he repeated, chuckling as he did so. "Gibbs won't even believe this one."