Chapter 7

"How in the world does someone as small as you pack away that much food?" Catherine asked, amazed, as she watched Ziva finish her huge breakfast.

"I need to replenish my energy," Ziva pouted. "It's all your fault, you know."

Catherine laughed loudly. "Oh, is that so?'

"Yes, it is so," Ziva declared.

Ziva stared out the diner's window for a moment, then turned to Catherine, her face suddenly serious.

"Do you still wish me to talk? I do not have to. I would hate to ruin this day."

"Of course I do," Catherine said surprised. "I said I was here to listen, so whenever you're ready, so am I."

Ziva glanced around, feeling slightly exposed in such a public place. "Is there somewhere we could go, a park perhaps?"

"I know just the place. C'mon."

Catherine drove them to a small park that sat practically in the middle of town, but had an atmosphere of being isolated.

They headed to a deserted bench and sat. "Not many people around here during the day. Vegas is a night town." Catherine explained.

"It is beautiful," Ziva whispered.

"So, " Ziva began. "I will try to explain. As I explained, Ari and I had the same training, similar upbringing. We had different mothers, but the same father. Many would think a father would be...gentler on a daughter than a son, but that was not my father's style.

Papa's idea of fun was to take us all to into the forest blindfolded, and leave us to find our way back. It built survival skills. I knew my father loved me, still loves me I suppose. But he could so easily hurt me. It was never the big things. He would brag about me, yet never did he come to any of my childhood dance recitals. I would always squint to see out into the audience, but never did he show. He never understood why that hurt so much, and I could never explain it to him. It is normal for fathers to have little nicknames for their children, is it not? When papa would talk to anyone about me, he would call me the 'sharp end of the spear'. Touching, no?

He is always telling me how he worries, so his solution is to put me under surveillance. When I visit or I am summoned, he does not share photos from his last vacation, but photos of who has come and gone from my apartment. "

"What about your mother?" Catherine asked.

Ziva laughed. "My mother was always encouraging me to be more of a lady. She would buy me dolls and tell me to go play. I would usually end up playing with my G.I. Joes, instead, sending them into battle to rescue the damsel. She tried to have me play 'girl' games but I enjoyed the games played by the boys much more. Perhaps she believed that if I were more feminine, I would not want to stay in the military past iTzahal/i, the two year compulsory for all Israeli women.

Regardless of these things, I had a purpose. I knew what I wanted to accomplish while I still had the time. I knew discarding my emotions would alienate me from everyone I had ever known, and everyone I would ever meet. But I had one clear purpose, a singular goal - to do anything and everything to stop terrorist and criminals.

Evil exists, Catherine, and is as real as this bench we are sitting on. It is the greatest of imposters, so we cannot always recognize it when we see it. Evil can be found everywhere: knocking at your door, delivering your mail, packing your groceries, preaching at your church or eating at your table. We can all see its true face if we just opened our eyes, but we choose to keep them closed. Not seeing is safer than seeing and having to do something about it. You know what I say is true, yes?"

Catherine sighed and shook her head. "Yes, I do know. I've seen the face of evil in the most innocent of faces."

"Yes, I knew you could see," Ziva continued. "But even with all you have seen, you have not seen it all. Fresh faced young women, cradling babies in their arms, hiding explosives within the swaddling clothes. Young men, not old enough to shave, martyring themselves for rivers of honey and fourteen virgins, blowing up school children. Fathers, brothers, uncles, raping their girl children. Men of God stealing the innocence of the young. The quiet polite young man, who by day helps the old ladies with chores, at night murders and mutilates young women. This is the evil you see every day, the evil you can recognize. But what of the leaders who live in opulence, while those who serve them starve in the streets? Organizations who take money from those concerned for the welfare of the children, of the world, but do not buy rice and grain. No, they buy cars and mansions and build temples of gold instead. Justifying it to themselves, and to those who continue to give what little they have, thinking they are helping those less fortunate. This is also the face of evil. The lion wearing the skin of the lamb."

Catherine reached out and placed her hand on Ziva's arm, "What made you believe you could change anything? We hunt them down and catch them, and the next day there are ten more to take their place. I know some days, I feel that I'm not really doing anything, just clearing the garbage, to make room for more. "

Ziva stared off into the distance, lost in her own mind, for a few moments before responding. "I know I cannot stop them all. I could spend the rest of my life hunting and killing them, and would never get them all. But I must do something! To do nothing would be much, much worse. If it meant I had to sacrifice living a inormal /ilife so someone may live, well then so be it. How could I have fun, feel love, have children or just enjoy life, while they still existed? My sister deserved a life full of love, laughter and many, many children. Instead she was obliterated! How could I, a woman who does not trust, does not empathize with anyone, have the life that should have belonged to that sweet, pure soul?"

Ziva angrily wiped away the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. "I know this is difficult for you to understand, Catherine. I only barely understand it myself. I have a favorite quote by Edmund Burke, that says what I cannot. 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

Catherine leaned over and pulled Ziva into her arms, hugging the younger woman tightly. "Oh, Ziva. Don't you realize that all of this is based on emotions? On love? If you really didn't care about anything or anyone, you would never have adopted this purpose!"

Ziva said nothing in response; she just looked off in the distance, watching her ghosts dance around her.

"I never doubted my beliefs. Not once did I doubt my purpose or think what I was doing was wrong. I never doubted Mossad or my father. I knew I would not live a long life in this job, and was prepared for that. Now...now, I have nothing but doubts. I still believe in my ideals, but perhaps what I have been taught is not the best method. Perhaps papa...does not have my best interest at heart. Or my country's. I want so to believe that Ari had lied, but my heart knows he did not. And I fear that someday I will pay dearly for my doubts. That is why I shun love, attachments. They would be nothing but targets. And how would I know, the one who professes love for me, is not the assassin sent to do me harm?"

While they had been talking, neither noticed that the sky had begun to darken. Ziva glanced up, surprised at the sudden chill that was in the air.

"It looks like it is going to rain. I did not know that it rained in Las Vegas."

"Not often, and not for long. But when it does, it really comes down," Catherine said, looking up. "Looks like that's what's about to happen. We should head back to the car or we'll get soaked."

Catherine stood and turned to walk back, but Ziva hesitated.

"Catherine?" The older woman stopped and looked back as Ziva asked, "Ummm...there is something I have always wanted to do. Would you mind if I asked you to do it with me?"

Catherine raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I have always wanted to walk in the rain with someone I thought special to me. I had seen movies where lovers always walk in the rain. I would like to have that experience . I do not think the dancing part is required, yes?"

Catherine was momentarily stunned by what Ziva had just said. Not by the request, so much, but by the "someone special to me" remark. Shaking herself, she smiled at the young Israeli, and stepped back to her. She put her arms around Ziva's waist and pulled her close, kissing her tenderly on the lips.

"I would love to walk in the rain with you, Ziva. And no, dancing is not required, but if the need overwhelms you, have at it!"

Ziva returned the embrace with a soft laugh, as fat raindrops began to fall. Within moments, the sky had opened up and rain was teeming down.

Ziva threw back her head and laughed in pleasure. She grabbed Catherine's hand, and the two of them began to walk down the street, drawing strange looks from people running past them, seeking shelter.

Catherine giggled at the child-like look of wonder on Ziva's face, as they walked. In less than a block, both women were soaked to the skin, hair hanging in wet strands, framing their faces.

"This is wonderful, Catherine!" Ziva shouted excitedly. "I understand now why it is in so many of your movies. I can almost understand the dancing!"

Ziva looked at Catherine, and thought the woman looked incredibly sexy soaking wet. As they came to the wall surrounding the pond at the Bellagio, Ziva grabbed Catherine and pushed her against the concrete.

"You are beautiful, Catherine! Do you know that? Wet is certainly a good look for you," exclaimed Ziva, as she pressed her lips firmly against Catherine's mouth, laughing into the kiss.

Not caring for a moment, that they were in the middle of the busy Vegas strip, Catherine wrapped her arms around Ziva, and returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

They stood like that, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing like young lovers, oblivious to the falling rain or anything around them. The small breaks in each kiss were filled with smiles and giggles, as each woman looked into the other's eyes. Catherine was first to notice that the rain had stopped, but she wasn't really ready to let Ziva go just yet. Eventually, Ziva became aware of the storm's passing and pulled back slightly from her. She smiled widely and unabashedly at Catherine.

"Hahaha! I never even thought to add 'kissing in the rain' to my wish. That is a slight I will not make again. Walking in the rain was enjoyable, but kissing in the rain...fantastic! Much better than dancing," Ziva beamed. "I can now cross that off my pail list."

"Bucket list, babe."

"Yes? Are you sure?" Catherine nodded and smiled. "Well, no matter. Pail, bucket...same difference."

Catherine laughed and linked her arm with Ziva's. "C'mon, darling. Let's head back and get out of these wet clothes."

"Why, Catherine! Are you propositioning me?"

"Could be, Ziva." Catherine grinned with a wink. "I just could be."