Interlude
Hush. It's okay. You couldn't fight it forever. You're not quite that strong. Just think hard and you'll be invisible. Focus. You're nothing. You're beautiful. Don't hide anymore. It will only hurt for a little while. Just like a Band-Aid. You can hear them now. Their coming to find you. It's okay. Don't panic. You knew this wouldn't last forever. Just breathe. Don't let them see how much it hurts you. Try not to scream. That's right. Shhh. It won't ever be the same now. But it's okay. Come on now. Just a few more steps. That's right. There. Just like that. Perfect. You're okay now.
Part Three: In which Abby is overworked.
The next day had the team working doggedly all morning, and by the time five-thirty rolled around Abby's eyes were watering and sore, her hands shaking from too much caffeine and her head pounding. She reached over to her desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of Aspirin and popping the cap off, dumping three tablets into her palm. The doors to her lab opened behind her, and she glanced up to see Ziva standing in the doorway. Abby didn't have the energy to move the few feet to turn down her pounding music, and merely gave the woman a half-hearted wave before downing the three pills with a gulp of ice cold coffee that, from its Starbucks insignia, she deduced had belonged to Gibbs at some point that day. The other woman arched an eyebrow, and walked over to the stereo, turning the pounding music down so that they could speak at a comfortable level. She watched as Abby finished off the coffee, and then began typing at her computer, completely ignoring Ziva's presence. Abby knew it was rude, but if she didn't get these databases set up within the next hour she was pretty sure Gibbs would strangle her.
"Isn't that cold?" Ziva asked, gesturing to the coffee.
Abby nodded, distracted. "Breakfast of champions," she said dryly. "Pain killers and caffeine. Hey, what was the room mate's sister's name?"
"Marlaya Kawnery," Ziva answered automatically, having interviewed the woman not an hour before, a fact which Abby only knew due to Tony's mutterings about how Gibbs wouldn't let him interview any female witnesses when he had been down in her lab collecting some fingerprint results.
"What are you cross referencing?" Ziva asked her.
"I'm doing a search of all the people our vic might have come into contact with and trying to match their blood types up to his. It's possible the drug was injected into him through a blood transfer, maybe one he wasn't even aware of."
"That would leave a mark," Ziva reminded her. Abby glared at the screen in front of her.
"Yeah. But have you got any better ideas?"
"Yes. First, you get out of this lab, eat something and sleep for a couple of hours, and then you come back and start chasing leads that wouldn't require magic to pull off."
Abby felt a serge of annoyance flood through her. "I'm fine. I'm not hungry. I'm not tired. I need to finish this database. Go away before I shoot you."
"You don't carry a gun," Ziva reminded her.
"You do. And I'm not exactly incapable of using a gun."
"Really?" Ziva sounded doubtful.
"Yeah. Really."
"Prove it."
Abby's head shot up. "Huh?"
"Prove that you can use a gun. Come with me to the shooting range for a few minutes. Take a bit of a break from all of this. You can't stay down here working overnight."
"Like hell I can't," Abby retorted, memories of many nights spent doing exactly that flittering across her mind.
"Everyone else has taken a break today. Even Gibbs. You need to get out. You wouldn't want to jeopardize the case by overworking yourself, would you?"
Abby didn't even grace that with a response until she felt her chair being pulled away from the desk, and she was spun around to find herself looking up into irritated dark eyes. She tried to move the chair back, but Ziva kept a firm hold on the arms.
"Abby," she said. "You're going to get up, put away the lab coat ant actually leave the lab. And then I'm going to take you out for dinner, and then back to my place where you are going to sleep for three hours, at least. I promise I'll wake you up after that, if that's what you want, but for now I'm not giving you a choice."
Abby looked more than a little stunned at the other woman's firm declaration, and quietly put her computer into standby, tossed her lab coat over the back of a chair, and trailed after Ziva as she left the lab. She felt as if she had just been kicked in the stomach. It was the first time that someone had told her to stop working, and actually enforced the order. They passed Gibbs on their way out, and he raised an enquiring eyebrow at Abby, completely ignoring Ziva.
She shrugged, and signed ‘I'm going to eat at a restaurant. And sleep for three hours,' with a helpless shrug and a mildly confused glance toward Ziva, where she was waiting a few feet ahead of them.
Gibbs nodded thoughtfully, and asked her how long she had been in the lab that day. When she admitted to him that she hadn't left the night before, he looked a lot more concerned, however also gave Ziva a very grateful glance. Sighing, he reached up and rested his hand against Abby's cheek in the sign for ‘my girl', sending little tingles throughout her entire body. She leaned her face into his palm for a moment, until she remembered that she was supposed to be opposing this interruption of her work, and pulled away from him.
"That was cute," Ziva said dryly as soon as they were settled in her car. Abby shrugged, and instead of answering she reached out to turn on the CD player. Ziva hadn't changed the CD, and Abby allowed Tori's soothing music to lull her into a half wakeful state leaning against the door, because no matter how much she fought it, the truth was that she would like nothing better than to be sound asleep in bed at that moment.
"You like Japanese?" Ziva asked after a while, rousing Abby from her half-doze.
"Sure," she nodded groggily. Ziva frowned, then shook her head and turned the car down a different street.
"We'll get take out," she decided.
"Mmk," Abby returned to her position against the window. Now that she was out of the lab and not working, she was willing to admit that she definitely needed a break, and while the shooting range may have been a tad out of her capabilities at the moment, her eyes and head were grateful for the relative quiet and peace.
The drive to a Tim Horton's was short, and when they reached the building that Abby assumed to be Ziva's apartment complex with sandwiches and juice in hand, it was barely six. Ziva led her up four flights of stairs and down a brightly lit hall to a door at the very end of the corridor.
"Hold this," she told Abby, handing over the paper bags and fiddling with the lock and key. When they entered, Abby felt her entire body relaxing almost immediately. While she had been drowsy on the way over, she hadn't been near relaxed. Her attempts to order coffee at the Tim Horton's had been met with an incredulous glance from Ziva and a very firm order to forget it. However stepping into the dark entry (a relief to her eyes from the harsh lighting of the halls), with the scent of incense wafting through the air, Abby allowed herself a moment to bask in the feeling of sheer contentment being away from work brought her.
"You can hang your coat over there," Ziva told her, taking the bags from Abby's hands and jerking her head toward a small glass doored closet. Abby automatically settled her long black leather jacket on a hanger and her calf high black leather boots on the utilitarian shoe rack before trailing after Ziva into the living room.
It had grown dark outside already, and Abby moved towards a window, staring out at the lights of the city below. "They're all so small," she commented, but received no answer. Turning, she didn't see the other woman anywhere in the sitting area. What she did see, however, surprised her. Beautiful rugs covered in elaborate designs that looked to be hand woven covered the laminate floor, and there was a tall bookshelf filled with leather bound texts, none of which Abby could read the titles to, due to the fact that not a one was in English. On the window sill rested a clay incense burner much like the one that decorated Abby's own apartment, the blackened ash of a stick filling the tray almost to overflowing.
"Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?" Ziva asked, popping her head around the corner.
Abby glanced over quickly, and at once regretted the swift movement as it set off a bout of intense throbbing in her head. She closed her eyes, sucking in deep breaths, waiting for the bounding to settle down, or for her mind to get accustomed to the new pain stimulus.
"Are you alright?" Ziva asked, suddenly right beside her.
"Yeah. Just a sec." Abby blew out a shaky breath as the pain receded a fraction, allowing her to look over to the other woman. "Kitchen's fine. Do you happen to have any painkillers?"
Ziva shook her head. "Not after I saw you eating them like candy back at the lab."
"You're no fun," Abby pouted, walking toward where she presumed the kitchen to be.
"You're also sleep deprived. What time did you get in this morning?" Ziva asked, following her.
Abby winced internally. She had known the question would pop up eventually, but hadn't been looking forward to answering it. She busied herself with unwrapping the sandwiches and breaking the seals on the juices, hoping that the other woman would just drop it.
"Abby…" Ziva was near her again, close enough to touch and yet not making any physical contact. Abby had always been very protective of her personal space, and the realization that Ziva had made it onto the list of people she let close to her in a physical sense had her pulling away.
"Didn't go home last night," she muttered, taking a seat and bighting into her sandwich.
"When was the last time you slept?" Ziva joined her, not eating, but staring across the small table at her with a stare that the young Goth was having a hard time holding.
"Last—No, wait, it's Wednesday today? Shit, I'm all screwed up." She began mentally counting backwards, swearing silently as the number continued to increase. Finally, she snapped her fingers. "Fifty-two hours and fifteen minutes ago."
Ziva blew out a breath. "Your body does need to rest, you know?"
Abby carefully shook her head. "Nope. There's this thing called caffeine. Insta-sleep for the workaholic in all of us!"
"You got that from Gibbs."
Abby shrugged. "Which. The jingle or the addiction."
"Both."
She shook her head animatedly and bit down on her lip hard enough to make it bleed to push back the flood of pain. "Neither. I made up the jingle on the spot. And Gibbs just provided me with the means to fulfill my addiction which I gained during university. Double-majoring in forensics and criminal psychology means you're lucky if you get twelve hours of sleep a week. Not to mention all the parties, the extra extension courses, the emotional rollercoaster, a job—"
"You're a profiler, as well?" Ziva asked in surprise. Abby held up a finger in a hushing motion.
"Nobody knows. And besides, I'm sure there's some special initiation one has to go through to be a real grown up profiler. Like—Well, like Kate. She was a profiler. I just drop hints where I can. Though Gibbs and Ducky know, but I'd be willing to bet that I have no secrets from either of them."
"How long have you been working with them?" Ziva asked, obviously curious.
"Six or seven years. I joined in mid ninety-eight, so ever since then. I submitted an application on a dare from one of my friends, and two weeks later I'm being called down for an interview." She paused to take a gulp of juice, setting the bottle back on the table with a muted thump. She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Totally fucked up the interview, of course. Said all the wrong things, insulted the director's suit, spilled coffee on Gibb's notebook and sent Milford's (you wouldn't know her, she retired), well, I sent her gold plated pen rolling under the desk where it fell down a vent. I remember standing out in the hall with all the other applicants, and I was already on the phone with my friend getting him to pick me up the application forms for a CSI lab tech. I started drawing, doodling all over my notebook. Then someone taps me on the shoulder, and I look up and poof, everybody's gone. So I get up and I'm all apologetic and rushing to get out of there, ‘cause I'm sure they've picked the lucky winner, and I'm just sitting in the hall like an idiot. And I'm almost at the elevators when Gibbs yells at me, "Monday morning at 08:00 AM sharp! I don't appreciate tardiness." And all I can remember is wondering to myself who the hell he was to be giving me orders like the director." Abby blushed, realizing that she had been babbling, and dropped her eyes to the table.
"The sad thing is that that story doesn't surprise me in the least," Ziva said, a hint of laughter in her tone. Abby chanced a look up to see her smiling at her.
"So what about you? How'd your days with Mosad start out?" Abby asked, leaning back and continuing to eat. Ziva's eyes closed off, and her hands gripped the glass bottle of juice in a death grip.
"I'd rather not talk about it."
Abby shrugged. "Whatever. That's cool."
They ate in silence for the next few minutes, Abby taking advantage of the quiet to give her head a moment of rest bit. When she finished eating, she got up, crumpling her wrapper and shoving it into the paper bag.
"That was great, thanks," she told Ziva. "I'll catch a cab back to the office and see you tomorrow."
Ziva caught her by the wrists before she was half way across the small room, spinning her to face the opposite direction.
"I know this is a foreign concept to you, but now you're going to go get some sleep."
Abby pouted. "But I'm awake again. I slept in the car."
Ziva just gave her a disbelieving look and guided her into the bedroom where a perfectly made bed was pressed up against the wall across from a beautifully carved dresser and night table. Abby stood beside the bed, feeling irritated and defiant. She hated not being in control, and around this woman Abby seemed to have absolutely no say in anything she did.
"If you think I won't tie you down you are gravely mistaken," Ziva stated in a tone, that, though sounding mostly like a joke, left Abby with know doubt that she was quite serious. Still pouting, the technician settled herself on the bed, curling up into a small ball at the farthest edge. She buried her face in the pillow which smelled of perfume and incense and laundry soap and tried to block out everything else, including the other individual still in the room with her.
After a moment, she felt a light blanket fall over her, and she pulled it closer. She waited until she heard the door close before she bounced up and grabbed her purse from the floor beside the bed, rummaging in it for her painkillers and her MP3 player. She was just about to pop another pill when the door opened and Ziva entered, looking both triumphant and irritated at the same time.
"How did I know you wouldn't just do something that's good for you that docilely?" she asked rhetorically, plucking the bottle from Abby's hands and taking it, along with the rest of her purse, out of Abby's reach. "You're just like a child."
"Fuck you," Abby replied shortly, turning away.
"Abby. Please. Just try to get some sleep. There's nothing else for you to do, and if the way you're trying to kill yourself by overdose is any indication, you've got a horrible migraine. You'd be no good to Gibbs right now in the condition you're in."
Sighing, Abby decided that for now, she would go along with the woman's advice. "Fine. Three hours, no more."
"Mmhm," Ziva nodded, exiting the room still carrying Abby's belongings with her.
Abby returned to her curled up position and after only a few minutes, she had drifted off.
XXX
When Abby awoke it was dark, and there was no sound in the apartment. She pushed herself up, grateful to feel no pounding sensation in her head at the movement. Tossing her legs over the side of the bed, she carefully made her way to the door in the dark, opening it softly and making her way out into the living room. Ziva was curled up on the couch with her laptop open, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Sleep well?" she asked without looking up. Abby walked over to sit in the chair across from her.
"Yeah. What time is it?"
"Four-thirty," Ziva said without missing a beat. Abby froze, and jerked upright.
"Shit! You were supposed to wake me up after three hours!"
Ziva nodded. "You needed the sleep more than you needed to work."
Abby felt her anger boiling over, and took a handful of slow, deep breaths to calm herself before speaking again. "You are not my mother. Nor are you my lover. And you are also not Gibbs. Therefore, you had no right to decide what's best for me without asking my permission!"
"I just woke up half an hour ago," Ziva commented, seemingly completely ignoring Abby's rant. "There's fruit if you're hungry."
"Coffee?" Abby asked hopefully.
"No," Ziva shook her head. "I've decided my new mission in life is to rid you of at least a few of your self-harmful habits."
"Ha. Ha," Abby muttered. "My own personal Mother Teresa. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside, now."
Ziva shrugged, and continued to type at her laptop. Abby wandered into the kitchen and located an orange, as well as a small carton of chocolate milk; something which seemed to Abby to be very out of character for the woman in the other room. Digging her fingernail beneath the peal of the orange, she reentered the living room, opting to take the seat on the couch beside Ziva for the soul reason that the coffee table was close enough to set her glass of milk on while she ate.
"What'cha doing?" Abby asked, leaning closer to see the screen of the laptop.
"Doing a search on our victim's family. I was thinking that it may be possible he was involved with some sort of drug ring that his friends didn't know about, and that wasn't marked on his record."
Abby arched an eyebrow. "And you think his family will know?"
"I couldn't think of anyone else."
"And even if he was, what are you hoping to prove? It defies the laws of physics that the man is dead at all!"
Ziva shrugged. "Any information may turn out to be useful."
"When are we going in?" Abby asked, finishing the last orange segment.
"I was thinking five-thirty. I didn't shower yet because I didn't want to wake you, and I'm sure you'd like to get cleaned up as well."
Abby glanced down at her stained tee-shirt and black jeans and winced. "Yeah."
"I've still got some things I want to check. The washroom's just off the bedroom, there're towels in the cupboard."
"Thanks," Abby nodded. She rose and began making her way into the bedroom when she paused, and turned back. "I'm still pissed at you for letting me sleep through."
"I had no doubt you would be," Ziva replied, sounding utterly unrepentant.
Abby sighed. "Right. Of course you didn't." She turned away, walking briskly to the door on the other side of the bedroom.
The hot water of the shower was, Abby reflected, possibly one of the best things she had ever experienced. She took her time, massaging the mint scented shampoo into her hair and scalp with fervor. When she had completed her regular routine in the shower, she stood leaning against the wall for a moment, just allowing the beads of water to pound down on her back. Finally she forced herself out of the shower and dried off with a large towel. She looked down to where her clothes had been sitting, and swore violently at what she saw. She had placed them too near to where the shower door opened, and the entire outfit was soaked through.
"This? Is absolutely my luck," she muttered to herself, glaring at the pile of sopping wet garments. Closing her eyes at the realization of what she was going to have to do, Abby wrapped the towel closer around herself, and made her way to the open door of the bedroom, peaking around the doorframe and clearing her throat hesitantly.
Ziva glanced up, giving her a half smile. "Done?"
Abby shook her head. "Not quite. Uh, my clothes are kinda wet…from the shower… I mean, I took them off, but they got wet from when I opened the shower door…" She couldn't believe this was happening to her.
"Do you want to borrow some of mine?" Ziva asked, smirking.
Abby clenched her teeth. "Uh huh."
The other woman got up, pausing to retrieve Abby's purse from behind the couch and handing it to her on her way into the bedroom.
"Thanks," Abby muttered, her cheeks a bright red.
A moment later, Ziva tossed a loose, flowing dark purple skirt at her, followed by a black shirt with purple embroidery. "I hope they fit," she said, and Abby caught a hint of embarrassment from the other woman.
"Thank you," the Goth replied, hurrying back into the bathroom to quickly get dressed. She scooped up her tee-shirt and jeans and carried them out into the room. "Do you have a plastic bag or something I can put these in?"
"In the kitchen, top drawer on the left," Ziva replied, walking passed Abby to the washroom.
Abby deposited her clothes in the bag, which she set by her jacket and boots at the door. Returning to the bedroom, she pulled her makeup from her purse and applied eyeliner, eye shadow and lipstick in short order. Ziva didn't take long, and by quarter after five the two women had packed all their things into Ziva's car and were on their way to work.
The streets were pitch black, the only interruption the glow of street lights and that of the few other cars insane enough to be out at the early hour. They made the drive to HQ in relative silence, and by the time they had reached the large building Abby was more than glad to be out of the car and into the company of other people.
Gibbs was already there, and he waved them over as soon as they entered the squad room. "I was thinking last night. I want a list of the vic's family, organized from the closest to the farthest away."
"Give me five minutes," Ziva said, smirking and walking toward her desk.
"Nice outfit," Gibbs commented as Abby turned to go down to her lab. She froze, taking a quick breath.
"Thanks."
He was quiet for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. His face relaxed, and he picked up a box from his desk, walking over to give it to her. "More samples Ducky got from our guy."
Abby smirked. "The dead one?"
He gave her a look. "No, Abs, the undead one."
Abby's eyes lit up. "Really? ‘Cause vampires are pretty."
Gibbs sighed, and gave her a gentle shove towards the elevator. "Shoo. Go work your magic."
Abby waved to him through the doors of the elevator as they closed and signed ‘See you later'. He nodded, and turned away.
XXX
TBC…
Author's Chapter Notes:
In which Abby is overworked.
Chapter End Notes:
Also hints of Gibbs/Abby, but I can't select multiple pairings with my screenreader.