She received the information, thoughtfully provided by Tony on a visit to the lab made under false pretences, with a calm that Buddha would envy. There had not been a single twitch nor had she choked on any highly caffeinated liquids. This, in her mind, was an accomplishment worthy of some acknowledgement, as it's not everyday one is confronted with the words "Ziva's broken. Fix her." Tony had even brought her lunch in order to insure her cooperation in the matter of discerning what, exactly, was making the Mossad officer more irritable than Gibbs on decaf.
"Why the hell isn't McGee getting recruited for this?"
Tony stopped fiddling with her mass-spec long enough to give her a withering look. "Well, considering he's not sleeping with Ziva…" She frowned. He arched an eyebrow. She shook her head. "Oh."
Obviously, Tony was magical. Why else would Abby be standing outside Ziva's apartment with a bag of Chinese food and a selection of the best cult classics she could find floating around her living room on short notice? The Crow. Labyrinth. Nightmare Before Christmas. The Rocky Horror Picture Show. That last, she thought, might be a bit much at the moment. She readjusted her armload of things in order to slip that particular DVD into her bag where it would be out of sight and therefore not up for curious poking. The door did not open. She swore (not mentally) and knocked again. There would be hell to pay if Ziva wasn't at home.
After five minutes of no reaction from within, she gave up and set everything she was carrying on the floor. She wasn't leaving. This was one of those decisions on which she preferred not to look too closely at her motives. There was always the semi-romantic, pseudo-stalkery idea of sitting outside the apartment door until Ziva arrived home, but that usually worked a little better if the person you were waiting for was actually out, and not just ignoring the constant knocking on their door. Abby had slipped in the front doors of the building behind a little old lady with a poodle the size of some sort of down-sized elephant, and therefore there was the slight chance that Ziva was, in fact, out. This seemed unlikely to Abby, however; and she was quite content to pick the lock and enter uninvited. If nothing else, she could get out of the hallway and mooch off of Ziva's TV until the Israeli got home. If she was, in fact, out. Which she wasn't. Abby swung the now unlocked door open and stepped back out long enough the pick up the food and DVDs. Ziva was home. There was music coming from the living room and, when Abby entered, she saw the other woman curled up on the couch reading.
"Hey Ziva," Abby said. Ziva didn't even glance up.
"Abby."
"You knew it was me," Abby accused, dropping the movies by the couch.
"If I didn't, YOU'D BE DEAD."
Abby arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding."
"Not really."
Abby shrugged. "I brought dinner. Take a look at the movies, decide what you feel like watching. Do you have any soda?"
Ziva blinked. "Why—"
"I'll find it," Abby cut her off, and headed into the small kitchen, depositing the large brown paper bag on the counter and opening cupboards until she located plates and cutlery. Her cell rang as she was dishing up the food.
"I have a problem," Tony said as soon as she picked up. Abby blew out a breath.
"I don't care."
"You should. It will eventually impact your life."
She sighed. "I'm not talking to Gibbs for you."
"Abby!"
"I don't even know why he's mad at you, but it's your own damn fault – why are you at work on a Friday night when the rest of us are very definitely not?"
Tony groaned. "Because God hates me."
"Which is fairly synonymous with Gibbs hating you?"
"Obviously."
"It's your own problem and I'm not getting involved."
"But he's making me stay at the office all night! Well, at least until midnight. You don't understand. I had a date tonight with a very hot redhead. I'm frustrated. Judy from accounting is starting to look attractive."
"Christ on a cracker, you need to get laid. Also? Redhead. No pity from my end. Now shoo, I'm busy with things that far outweigh your petty needs."
He snorted. "I can promise you, Abs, my problems really are more relevant than which boots you're wearing out tonight."
She pulled down two glasses from the cupboard above the sink. "I'm at Ziva's," she said under her breath.
"Oh. Thank God. Can I watch?"
She uncapped the soda bottle and tucked the phone against her shoulder as she poured.
"S T F U."
He sighed. "Stop interacting with McGee. It's warping your brain."
"You knew what it meant. Now go away. I'm serious."
"Okay, okay. Has she told you anything?"
"No. I just got here five minutes ago. I'm still hoping she doesn't kick me out once she gets over the surprise of me kind of popping up in her apartment. I'm hoping she accepts it as a form of revenge for earlier this week. Don't ask. I'm hanging up now. Kisses."
He didn't dignify that with a response, and hung up with a rather violent clatter before the line was cut. Abby recapped the soda and carried the glasses into the living room along with Ziva's plate. She set everything on the coffee table and darted back into the kitchen to grab her own. Ziva arched an eyebrow. "Hi Abby."
Abby bounced onto the couch right beside the other woman. "Hi!"
"Why are you in my apartment?"
Abby shrugged. "I was bored. You were home. Food is important and I even brought movies."
"That's very...strange of you," Ziva said with a sigh. Abby nodded.
"Thank you. We're going out later, too. I'm excited. I get to dress you up."
Ziva blinked. "Really."
"Yes."
"You're rather sure of yourself."
"People love me or fear me and then they are my slaves."
"I don't particularly feel like company tonight, nor do I want to go out to whatever Goth clubs you might drag me to. It was sweet of you to come, but it's not really a good time--"
"What part of 'are my slaves' did you not understand?"
Ziva rolled her eyes and took a bite of her rice. "You said that only applies to people who love you or fear you?"
Abby frowned. "Don't be like that. You basically took over my life earlier this week so you have no right to complain."
"It was for you're own good. You were abusing your body. There's nothing at all similar about you breaking into my apartment and—"
"Feeding you?" Abby finished dryly. "Look. Certain persons who shall remain nameless have told me in confidence that you've been, for lack of a better word, grumpy lately. Now, the last time I had any interaction with you, I wouldn't classify your behavior as grumpy. You were positively maternal. It was fucking creepy. Now, either something's up with you, in which case a night of relaxation couldn't hurt, or else said persons – okay, person – who told me is wrong and I'm still not leaving because I drove all the way over here and I'm far too lazy to leave now. Kay?"
"Abby—"
"Which movie do you want to watch?" She reached down beside the couch and pulled up the three choices for the evening. Ziva blew out a breath.
"When did you recuperate? Two days ago you were as fragile as a paper doll."
Abby tilted her head to the side. "Must've been the wonderful TLC I received."
Ziva frowned. "TLC?"
Abby smirked and took a sip of her soda. "I'd say ask Tony? But no. It stands for tender love and care. I was mocking and indirectly thanking you. Work with it."
"You're welcome. Indirectly."
Abby stuck out her tongue. "Seriously. Which movie?" Before Ziva could reply, the phone rang.
"Excuse me," Ziva murmured. Abby shrugged and looked away, studying the books on the shelf beside her intently. It was a weak attempt not to eavesdrop, and when Ziva began talking Abby was listening intently to every word.
" Jenny, this isn't a good time. Can I call—No, I just—"Pause. "No. I've got company at the moment." Pause. "Does that matter? You said—" pause. "I'm sorry, Director, I can't talk at the moment." Beep. Abby turned back, trying to appear casual.
"I always knew the director was the jealous type. Did you reassure her that I haven't lured you into bed by way of my mysterious evil Goth powers?"
Ziva stared at her. "What?"
"Never mind," Abby muttered. She had to remind herself that there was absolutely no reason for her to be jealous of anything that Ziva and the devil woman may or may not have going on. Really. Even if she did want to go find the director and rip her throat out for interrupting their evening. Which—so not a date. A date usually didn't involve picking locks and David Bowie in glitter. At least, that's what Abby had heard. She was not a conventional date girl and she was used to everything from being blindfolded on her way out of class and bundled away in a black SUV with tinted windows to finishing the night dodging a motorcycle in an unfamiliar living room after a few too many drinks and a couple hits of a drug she had never actually identified.
"I'm not sleeping with Director Sheppard," Ziva stated. The ‘anymore' didn't have to be spoken out loud. Abby had to admit that this seemingly truthful admonition from the other woman did make her feel a hell of a lot better. Just another thing to add to the list of things that she wasn't thinking about too closely. Instead, she took a bite of chicken.
"So what did she want?" Abby asked after a few moments of rather awkward silence.
Ziva shifted. "It's not important. I'd prefer we not talk about it."
"Really? Is it in relation to whatever has gotten you all pissy the last couple days?"
"You've barely spoken a word to me since Wednesday. All you have as proof of my so-called irritability is Tony whining about it. Really, how reliable of a source is that? I'm fine. Can we drop it?"
The Goth shook her head. "Not after that little burst of denial. And I've kind of been super busy the last couple of days. So don't go making me feel guilty about that. Now seriously. What's going on?"
Ziva blew out a breath. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."
Abby pouted. "But I'm adorable. You love me."
"Parts of what's bothering me are strictly ‘need to know'. And you don't. It's very sweet of you to try and help, but I just can't explain it."
Abby's eyebrows shot up. "It has to do with that case, doesn't it? The one that got taken away from you guys? You didn't know anything on Wednesday, but now you do and it's bugging you because the director wants you to keep it to yourself but there's a little voice inside your head telling you that you need to tell Gibbs because… he's Gibbs."
Ziva stared at her. "You completed your psychology degree with honors, didn't you?"
Abby nodded. "Well, yes, but that was criminal psychology and unless this whole thing with the disappearing case is wicked intense, you're not a criminal. I mean, obviously there were a lot of general psychology classes, not everything was about criminals or whatever, but… Why?"
"You just outlined exactly what's been bothering me."
"Oh. Heh, I win. No, that was just a random guess. Seems I know you better than either of us realized. Excellent."
Ziva gave her a look that managed to combine both disdain and gratitude. Abby was impressed.
"So. Is there anything else you can tell me without me winding up dead in a ditch somewhere?"
Ziva stifled a harsh laugh. "What else do you want to know? The director has provided me with information that I feel should also be provided to certain other people. She disagrees. There's nothing I can do about it."
Abby tapped her fingers together. "Hmmm. So by other people I assume you mean Gibbs and Co. So now I ask, is this information in regards to anything that could put them in danger?"
Ziva thought it over. "No."
"Good. That makes this much easier." Abby leaned back and waited for Ziva's gaze to meet her own before she continued.
"So think about this. It's not putting them in danger. There's nothing you can do about it, without pissing off the Director royally. In all honesty, you're kind of dealing with this really immaturely. You're taking out your frustration on your coworkers for something that they have no control over and, really, something over which you have no control, either. Why waste time feeling guilty?"
Ziva stared at her. "As absolutely inspiring as that little speech was--"
Abby held up a hand, cutting her off. "If you're going to be like that, don't say anything. I brought movies. They are good movies. We're going to watch them."
Ziva's phone rang. Abby did not scream in frustration. "You sure you're not sleeping with her? The way she's acting is pretty reminiscent of a jealous lover. And believe me, I'd know." Abby had been on both the giving and receiving ends of many repetitively paranoid phone calls.
Ziva's eyes dropped and she snatched the phone off the table. Abby winced. So perhaps Ziva wasn't the only one who needed to learn to keep her bitter comments to herself. "Hello? ... No. ... Yes. ... I'm not even going to ask." She held out the phone. Abby accepted it, confused.
"Hello?"
"Abs. *don't* hang up, damn it."
Abby took her finger off the 'end' button. "What do you want, DiNozzo?"
"I didn't interrupt you in the middle of sex, did I?"
"As much as you'd like that, no. Seriously, what?"
"Damn. I need to know if you're still coming to that thing tomorrow with those people."
Abby frowned. "The thing with the people from the b--"
"The other ones."
"Oh! Merde, Tony, I don't have a date. You bailed on me, remember."
"Of course you have a date, silly. It starts at nine."
"It's a birthday, right?"
"Think so. I'll buy a bottle of something ridiculously alcoholic and you can pay me back your half later. You have a bow or ribbon or something?"
"Uh huh."
"Good. I'll call you tomorrow."
"You weren't serious about--"
"She worships the ground you walk on. I've gotta go, Gibbs let me out and there's a very hot blonde waiting for me back at our table." He snickered. "I'm getting laid tonight."
"At least one of us is. Now grow up about fifteen years and check your tie."
"What?"
"Made you look."
"And you say I need to grow up."
"I'm busy. I'm hanging up."
"Fickle."
She hung up and turned to Ziva. "You're busy tomorrow night."
Ziva glanced up. "No, I don't think I am."
Abby shook her head. "Not a question. You are."
Ziva blew out a breath. "Ok then." Abby grinned, and mentally high-fived herself.
"Perfect."
Author's Chapter Notes:
In which Abby invades