AN: Here's a late Rosh HaShanah fic for you. G'mar chatimah tovah! For those of you fasting this week (my doctor won't let me...), Tzom kal!

This fic is dedicated to 1) a classmate of mine who shall not be named. Let's just say, this fic is based on a true story, 2) Mr. Armstrong, who let me out of doing my speech on Eisenhower an extra day due to the holiday.

"What is it?" Tony eyed the red orb sitting on Ziva's desk curiously, "It's like an onion and an apple had a baby..." he picked up the object juggling it playfully.

Ziva snatched it back, placing it in the locking drawer of her desk, "You do have other things that you could be doing right now. Perhaps finishing your reports before Gibbs finds out you slagged off? Do you have something more important to do?"

"Honestly, yes," he smirked, "And it's 'slacked' off, which is something I take very seriously. It's a holiday though, right? Congress gets it off, how come they get laze about doing nothing, kind of like they do everyday, when we're working without complaining?" he paced the bullpen, sulking.

"Tony, all morning you've done nothing but complain," McGee pointed out, watching the brewing feud from the safety of his desk.

"Hey, all I'm saying is there are probably more Jews in this room than there are in Congress," Tony commented, mostly to try to get a rise out of Ziva. While she wasn't the most religious person, ignorance bothered her more than almost anything else, "What's the big deal about today anyway? Is this the day where you don't eat anything? And light eight tiny candles?"

Ziva sighed, rubbing her temples tiredly. She'd all but given up on finishing up her case files, "No, I think you are morphing Yom Kippur and Chanukah."

"Oh," Tony nodded, "When's that?"

"Thursday, and in December, now please go away!" she hissed, hearing Gibbs' footsteps from the catwalk above. She flinched, anticipating the slap that never came. At least to her. Tony ducked, a second too late.

"What did I do?" Tony asked, rubbing his temple. He was surprised that over the years he hadn't developed callouses on the back of his head.

"Just because the monkeys in Congress get to slack off doesn't mean you can!" he turned to Ziva, who handed in her reports, "Ziva, you can go on lunch. DiNozzo, McGee, keep at it. You can eat once you're done." he sat down at his own desk, pulling out his lunch for the day.

"Unbelievable," Tony scoffed, "Gibbs gave her the easy ones. DUI, gambling on base, pot bust, while we do the real work."

"Ever consider that she finishes first because you have the attention span of a budgie?" McGee suggested.

"What's your excuse then?" he countered, "Sh! Look, there it is..." he intently watched the reddish orb in Ziva's hand, flinching slightly as she stabbed into it with her knife, gushing purplish juices, "She killed it!"

"Ah, Ziva!" Ducky walked up to her with a warm smile as always, placing another of the onion/applish things on Ziva's desk, "Shanah tovah, my dear!"

"Thank you, Ducky," she smiled, "Although so far, I have one from Gibbs, one from Abby, and now one from you. At least they are healthy for you, yes? Tony, since you are so fascinated with them, would you like to try it?"

"What is 'it'?" he asked, taking half of one of her butchered gifts, "And why is it...bleeding?"

"It's a pomegranate, Tony," Ducky chuckled, "A thick skinned fruit, originating in the Mediterranean region, out as far as Turkey and southern France. Getting into them is the problem," he amended in Ziva's case, "Though not obviously for you, dear. Yes, as I recall, they are a tradition for Rosh HaShanah, because according to popular myth, they contain 613 seeds, equal to the number of commandments in the Torah."

"Ever count 'em?" Tony asked, eying the tiny seeds inside.

"Yes, my sister and I did not believe it when our mother told us that, so we counted. It came out to exactly 613." she smiled, remembering one of the few fond memories she had left of her childhood.

Mcgee picked up a chunk off of Ziva's desk, "They're pretty sweet, aren't they?" he picked out a few seeds, popping them in his mouth, "Not bad."

"Huh," Tony took a large bite of his piece, disdainfully chewing the fruit, "Sweet?! It's like chewing a wet tire!"

"Tony, no," she smiled, watching Tony's face contort, "You do not eat the skin. The only edible parts are the seeds and the little pouches they are in. The rest is mostly fiber, and as you now know, extremely bitter."

"Oh, dear," Ducky shook his head. While he didn't enjoy making people miserable, preferring to do the exact opposite, when people made stupid decisions leading to their own misery, he made an exception.

McGee happily chewed the sweet parts, watching Tony spit furiously into a nearby trash bin, "I'm glad we work Rosh HaShanah!"

AN: Sorry it was so short, review please?