The front of the car had borne most of the brunt. The tree limb had hit the top of the car and the windshield, further breaking the latter and showering the car and its occupant with fragments of glass. The top of the car had caved in with the force of the collision. The material hadn't torn open, but there was no guarantee it wouldn't soon give in to the weight of the large limb, so staying on the floor of the car might not be the best idea.

Ziva tried to move and groaned in pain. When she'd leapt back in, she had fallen heavily on her arm. She wasn't sure if it was broken or not; all she knew as that it hurt like hell. She gritted her teeth and took the jolts of pain as she gingerly pushed herself back up to the backseat. She noted that the backseat windows had also been shattered, so she now had even less protection from the frigid night air.

The blanket was stained with spots of blood; the blood was hers. The glass had left small cuts on her body. It was unavoidable. Even sitting there, she was acutely aware of the shards of sharp glass which covered it. She carefully brushed them to the floor and situated herself on the seat in a fetal position.

She cradled the hurt arm and tried to use the blanket as a makeshift sling. It left her naked body vulnerable to the elements, but she couldn't just leave the arm dangling there.

"Tim," she asked weakly, "where are you?"

"Here we are!" May chirped.

Tim was lying down and couldn't see the house, but he was relieved nonetheless by her cheerful announcement. He was exhausted for reasons he didn't know and, despite his comments earlier regarding the promised pot of beef stew, his stomach was now rumbling in anticipation of food. A big bowl of beef stew and a comfy couch; it sounded heavenly to him.

The truck came to a halt. "Now it's nothing fancy," May warned as she opened her door. "Just a little home, but I told you, we got space on the couch. And it's heated!"

After Willy had stepped out he pulled his seat forward to let Tim out of the back. He crawled out and almost lost his footing. For whatever reason, his legs felt like jelly. If Willy hadn't caught his arm, Tim probably would have face-planted on the ground.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the man snarled in a less than pleasant tone.

"I'm just…just…" Tim wasn't sure what he was.

Willy cursed, muttering something about drugs under his breath as he lead Tim to the house, keeping a firm grip on him lest his legs should give out again.

As May had mentioned, the house was very small. There looked to only be two bedrooms and one bathroom along with a miniscule living area which doubled as the kitchen. But the couch—complete with a fresh afghan hanging over the back—looked very inviting to the weary Tim.

He took a seat while Willy went to build a fire and May busied herself around in the kitchen. Tim could smell something; he wasn't sure what it was, but it made his mouth water.

"Need something to drink, sweetie?"

Tim turned to answer her…and paused. He hadn't seen all of her when he'd been lying in the back of the truck, and when he'd come into the house he was too focused on not falling to pay her much mind. Now, though, he realized that May was pregnant—very pregnant. He would guess she was somewhere around seven months.

"You're pregnant?"

She looked down as though she had to double-check before she answered. When she looked back up, her face beamed in that special way that only a woman with child could. "Yep! Our first!"

"Congratulations." Something tugged at the hazy part of his brain. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy," Willy said. For the first time since Tim had met him, the brusque man wore an expression that wasn't anger or frustration. He, too, beamed at the prospect of his soon-to-be-born son.

Tim nodded, a twinge of envy swimming about in his mind. Soon-to-be parents always looked so happy. Would he ever have that same happiness? Perhaps very soon, a nagging through persisted.

May came over with a bowl of stew and a mug of tea. "You're not likely to get anything done tonight. You eat, get some rest, and tomorrow we'll try and figure out what's going on.

"Thank you," he said politely before slovenly stuffing his face. He hadn't realized how famished he really was. "I'm sorry to be an inconvenience."

"No inconvenience," she assured him with a sweet smile. "We'll be caring for another person in only a couple of months, so it's good to be getting some practice in now. 'Sides, it would've been downright un-Christian of us to just leave you there like that!"

A crackle of thunder sounded from outside, grabbing the attention of them all. May stood and waddled to the window. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "And in this weather! I tell you, it's a lucky thing we stopped in time."

Tim gulped. He didn't need to be told what would have happened if they hadn't stopped in time. Not that it was their fault; he was the one who'd gone running into the street. But why?

"On a night like this," she continued, "you expect to see lots of accidents, especially around these parts."

"Yeah?" he asked half-heartedly between bites of the stew. He was only partially listening at this point.

"Oh, sure. Lots of folks think they can speed through the rain. They don't realize how these roads twist and turn. Luckily for you and for us, Willy knows these roads like the back of his hand."

She sat—well, plopped, was more like it—down next to Tim and set her feet atop the cluttered coffee table. "So, Tim, tell me about yourself."

"Like what?"

"What do you do for a living?"

He had to pause for a moment. "NCIS. It's Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I'm a federal agent."

"Do you and your wife have kids?"

"No wife," he told her, his mind now on autopilot, "but my girlfriend is preg-" He cut off, eyes wide.

May gently patted his hand. "It's okay, sweetie," she said in a soft voice, having taken his abrupt cut-off as shame of having a child out of wedlock. "We won't judge you."

"No…no it's just that…my girlfriend was with me tonight." He furrowed his brow. Ziva had been there…right? "We were…we had gone to dinner…and we were driving home."

"And then what?" May asked with rapt attention, as though catching the latest gossip from a girlfriend.

He closed his eyes to recall the memories. They had been foggy before; now they were forming at the speed of light. "We were driving and the car went off the road!"

"And you just left her there?" Willy asked.

"No! Well, yes, but I went to find help. That's why I ran out in front of your car!" Despite being on a verge of sleep moments before, Tim jumped to his feet. "Can I use your phone?"

Willy picked up the phone and listened. "Power lines are down."

"Cell phone?"

The man shook his head. "There's a gas station with a pay phone a few miles down the way we came."

Tim shook his head. "I need to get to her…I've been gone too long and she's probably scared to death." Tim hid a smile at the idea of Ziva being scared of anything. This was no time to be smiling; it was time to be the hero!

May jumped right in without missing a beat, "Willy, take your truck to the gas station and call for an ambulance. Tim and me will take my old car and get his girlfriend. What's her name, sweetie?"

"Ziva."

She nodded firmly. "We'll go get Ziva and get her settled." The woman was obviously not afraid of taking charge of a situation, a trait for which Tim was very grateful at the moment.

He grabbed her in a hug. "Thank you," he whispered.

"That's enough of that," she said, giving his arm a playful slap. "Time to get your booty into action!"

She shivered; her body felt numb. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and her mind thought back to Israel; hot, arid Israel. Perhaps the thoughts would sustain her until Tim returned.

Then, she closed her eyes.