When you grow up in a place like Israel, rain becomes a luxury rather than an inconvenience. The area is hot and dry with dust everywhere. Even those of us lucky enough to have had air conditioning suffered for the area's arid climate every time we stepped outside. When the sky would finally open up and drench the area with much needed hydration, it would bring a smile to my face, no matter what mood I had been in up to that point.

My bedroom was on the second floor of my home. Even from that height, dust and grime managed to amass on the pane of my window, effectively distorting my view. It was rarely cleaned, mostly due to how high it was, so I would sit there each day and squint as I tried to see the beautiful view it offered when it wasn't covered with grime. When it rained, the water would drip along the layer of dirt and wash it away. By the end of the storm, my window would be almost completely clear. Rain was, in my mind, a cleansing process, much like a baptism in Christianity. When the water fell, it washed away the soil and dirt and everything bad.

When I came to America, I was confused by the way people would scurry out of path of rain as though it were acid rather than mere water. Women grabbed at their hair with strangled cries as they rain beneath eaves and awnings. Men shot scowls skyward, curing the sky for the unwanted soaking. I would stop only to admire the beautiful bathing of rain as I continued on my way. As the water soaked through my clothes, I could sense all of my bad feelings and negative thoughts being washed from my body, mixing with the rain water, and trickling gently into the nearby sewer.

After the explosion, my brain entered Mossad mode without a second thought. That mode does not allow for emotions to muddle my senses. Emotions are weaknesses which hinder you from doing your job. You remain stoic until the job is done. Then—and only then—you may excused yourself and sob in privacy. It didn't matter that Gibbs was in critical condition. It didn't matter that our supposed contact had been killed in the blast. It didn't matter that our team was shaken to its core as we tried to regain composure. I was in my Mossad state of mind and I was not about to falter.

It was when Ducky, Tony, Jimmy, and myself were surveying the scene of the explosion that I felt my hard exterior begin to weaken. I knew they were all looking at me, wondering why I showed such little concern for my teammate. Despite having worked with them for almost a year, there was still a level of distrust from all of us, natural considering the circumstances. Then I looked up and saw it: the rain. The droplets were trickling along the glass of the window, dancing to the music of rain violently pelting the earth and the growl of thunder echoing through the sky.

"It's raining," I said with a small smile. My companions were less observant of the change in weather. They barely even acknowledged my comment.

"Ducky, you and Jimmy get the body back to NCIS and call me whenever you know something," Tony ordered. He had stepped into the leadership role with vigor. "Ziva, finish taking pictures then bring them to Abby. I have to call Director Shepherd with the SitRep."

He left us to complete our given orders. I returned to my stony-faced stoicism as I snapped pictures, my brief slip of weakness over. I never voiced it to anyone, but as the rain continued to pound upon us, it felt as though it was cleansing the situation, taking away everything bad. It gave me hope that Gibbs would survive this and that thing would soon return to normal.

As I exited the ship and trod through the storm, I realized rain was helpful for reasons other than washing away grime. The droplets which streamed down my cheeks provided the perfect camouflage for the tears which had already begun spilling from my eyes.

Thanks for reading!