By ten that night Ziva had succeeded in quashing Abby's clubbing plans, pleading exhaustion. The credits were scrolling across the screen, the movie having just ended and Ziva could hear Abby humming to herself under the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. She yawned, and slowly pushed herself to her feet, stopping the DVD and ejecting it. Entering the kitchen, she found Abby scraping the last of their dinner into the trash.
"I can clean up, Abby."
The Goth shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I'm good."
Ziva shifted awkwardly. "Thank you for dinner. And--" She tried to phrase her words properly.
Abby turned to face her, smiling. "Hey, it's all good. I'm just glad I can help."
Ziva nodded. "It was very kind of you." The awkwardness was practically tangible, hanging in the air around them.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Abby said finally. Ziva nodded.
"I'll walk you to your car."
Abby laughed. "I can take care of myself, I'm a big girl."
"Humor me." The idea of Abby wandering the darkened parking lot alone did not sit well with Ziva in the slightest. Abby blew out a breath.
"Oooookay."
Ziva watched her as she laced herself into the high leather boots and slid the long black jacket over her arms, drawing it close around herself. Scooping up her bags, Abby swung open the door and stepped out into the hall.
They descended the stairs in silence, and exited into the parking lot. Abby's hearse was at the far end of the lot, and Ziva rolled her eyes in the darkness.
"Not to cast doubt on your ability to defend yourself," she began, carefully.
Abby cut her off. "I've heard it a million times before."
Abby unlocked the door, and smiled at Ziva. "There. Your 'knight in shining armor' duties have been observed. I'll see you tomorrow, seven-thirty."
And without any warning, Ziva found herself enveloped in a flurry of black lace and rose perfume. Strong arms closed around her briefly, crushing her tightly before Abby stepped back from the hug, and slipped quickly into her car. She waved and slammed the door. Ziva blinked rapidly, her mind trying to catch up with the events that had just passed. Abby was a physically affectionate person. She had seen her displays with Gibbs and McGee and anyone else she considered a friend, and therefore it should not surprise her that Abby had done something similar. She shook her head, laughing at herself for dwelling on it. She could see Abby fiddling with something in her car, and waited for the engine to come to life. ...and waited. And then waited a little longer. Finally, the door opened, and Abby stuck her head out."
"You can go, Ziva, this piece of shit is being stubborn. I'm gonna have to call somebody for a ride." She was already dialing her cell. Ziva frowned, and did not move. Abby tapped her fingers on the side of the door impatiently, waiting for whoever she was calling to pick up.
"Hi! My car broke down. What're you doing? ... Yes. ... Very nice, very nice. ... At Ziva's still. ... Yeah, I wish. ... Pretty much. ... Anyway! Can you pretty please come get me? ... No. ... Yeah, but... ... No! Tony! ... That's so mean! ... I fucking hate you. ... Yeah, yeah. I'm-- ... No! I'm hanging up now." She snapped her phone shut, sighing dramatically. "Ok, who else loves me enough to rescue me?"
Ziva held up a hand. "Abby, you can stay here tonight. It's fine."
Abby seemingly choked on air, and swore under her breath, ostensibly at Tony. Ziva frowned. "I'm sure I can find a ride. I really don't want to impose."
Ziva shook her head in amazement. Abby had just completely taken over her apartment and planned her next evening's activities without a single ounce of input from Ziva herself, and now she was worrying about being an imposition. "Don't argue, Abby. It's late, it's cold out and your car is broken. It only makes sense for you to spend the night."
Abby slipped out of the vehicle, closing and locking the doors. "Fine. Be a good person, why don't you."
Ziva shrugged. "Apparently it's something I should work on."
Abby snorted. "That's a lie."
Ziva didn't respond. They returned to the apartment in much the same silence as they had left it in.
XXX
Ziva was running for her life. She was recently eighteen, just beginning her serious work for Mossad. Somewhere behind her she could hear the screams of her sister, but she tuned them out, focusing on her own laboured breathing. She could see the truck idling only twenty yards away, her father and brother waiting inside, calling to her to be faster, not to give up. She put on an extra burst of speed and was almost upon the vehicle when she saw something hurtling through the air directly toward the cab of the truck. She dropped to the ground automatically, screaming for her father and brother to get out, to get away from the doomed vehicle.
A brilliant flash of light, and a thundering boom resounded through her skull. She felt the heat flash, could almost feel her skin blackening. She looked up. Slowly, like a bowling ball losing momentum, her brother's head rolled towards her, gray matter and blood dripping from the spot where it should have connected to his neck. "You killed me!" He groaned. "My little sister-You've killed me." The head picked up speed, coming to rest directly in front of her, sightless, dead eyes staring straight into hers.
She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. Slowly, the face changed to that of Gibbs. "You failed, Officer David. You weren't good enough. I tried to teach you, but you never listened."
Another, slightly dimmer flash of light, and the head exploded, bits of gleaming white bone and crimson blood droplets scattering everywhere.
Ziva woke up. Something was restraining her. She kicked out, trying to fight off whatever unseen assailant had managed to come upon her in her sleep.
"Ziva! Stop it!" The voice registered after only a second, and she stopped fighting, frowning.
"Abby, what are you doing in my bed?"
"You were having a nightmare. I was kind of worried you were gonna hurt yourself, so..."
Ziva shifted, and Abby's grip on her was immediately released. It had only been after much arguing and polite offers that Abby had convinced Ziva to take the bed. Using the fact that Abby had already kicked her out of her bed once that week and the fact that Abby was the one who got herself into the mess - Ziva still wasn't quite sure how that had worked - Abby had taken the couch.
"I'm sorry I woke you," Ziva said into the darkness. "I'm fine."
Abby laughed dryly from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Sure you are. You were screaming. Generally that's not a sound associated with being fine."
Ziva frowned. She hadn't been aware that she made noise when she dreamt -- no one had ever mentioned it before. It was a fact that concerned her greatly. She'd gotten used to the nightmares, taking them into stride and waking from them to pretend that they didn't happen. Abby touched her shoulder lightly.
"How often do you have nightmares?"
Ziva drew the blanket higher over her head, entertaining a small childish impulse to hide away from the world. "Abby, it was nothing. Go back to bed."
Abby sighed. "Fine, fine. Be all irritating about it." The bed shifted as the other woman rose to her feet, and a moment later Ziva heard the door close.
The nightmares had started two nights after that night in Gibbs' basement when she'd killed Ari. The shock of her actions had taken a while to settle in, to strike her with the force of the realization that she'd killed her own brother -- the laughing ten-year-old sitting at a table with ice-cream all over his face; the serious thirteen-year-old who had spent hours with their father, listening as he explained his future purpose; the seventeen-year-old who stood up for his younger sister when that same father treated her like dirt; the skilled agent whom she'd been proud to work with. She had killed her own brother and the idea had made her sick. It still did, though now she had gotten past her grief and moved on to self-recrimination -- she had killed before and it was her duty as a Mossad Officer to perform her job to the best of her abilities. She should not harbour regret over dealing with a traitor.
She had no desire to wake Abby again with her apparent verbalizations of her inner demons, so she flicked on the bedside lamp and pulled a book from the shelf. The red digits of the alarm clock blinked an accusing 01:30. It didn't matter, the next day was a Saturday. It was a good book, mailed to her from a friend back home and she quickly got lost in the story, forgetting about her troubled sleep and the guest in her apartment quickly. At 03:00 the door cracked open. Ziva's entire body tensed, and she casually slid her hand toward her gun where it sat on the table beside the bed. She relaxed as soon as Abby poked her head in.
"What the fuck, Ziva?" Abby demanded sleepily.
"What's wrong?" Ziva asked.
Abby entered the room fully, closing the door behind her. "It's three o'clock in the morning. Normal people sleep. Normal people need sleep."
"Hypocrite," Ziva muttered under her breath. Abby ignored her, walking across the room and sprawling down on the bed beside Ziva. Snatching away the book, Abby tossed it at the shelf, missing and letting it fall to the floor. She reached over a startled Ziva, flipped off the lamp, and pulled the blanket over her. A strong grip pulled Ziva down until she was lying beside the Goth.
"Go to sleep," Abby muttered, voice slightly muffled by the pillow. Ziva sighed and began to get up.
"I'll just--"
Abby hissed out a frustrated breath. "What part of go to sleep don't you fucking understand?" Abby's arm draped itself across Ziva, tightening, and her leg fell partly over Ziva's, effectively pinning her in place. If she had truly wanted to, Ziva could have broken the hold. Thus she wasn't entirely sure why she was still lying there, pressed against Abby, sharing a bed in the dark. She could hear her father, her Rabbi, her family screaming at her in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out their condemnation.
"Relax, sweetheart," Abby murmured close to her ear. "Nothing's happening. You're ok. Just breathe."
The endearment made Ziva's heart skip a beat. She lay perfectly still, pretending to be dead. If she were dead, she wouldn't have to deal with this.
Abby's breath lifted a few strands of her hair, sending shivers up and down her spine. Ziva found herself matching her breathing patterns to the other's. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Slowly, one muscle at a time, she began to deliberately relax her body until all the tension had drained away from her.
She woke up hours later from a dreamless sleep to find the spot beside her in the bed empty and the sheets cold. There was a note taped to the front of her refrigerator.
Z:
Got a ride home, didn't want to wake you up. Coffee's made. Thanks for the hospitality. See you tonight, seven sharp.
A
Ziva studied the note, written in professionally scientific handwriting, the script of one who worked in a field where clarity and precision were key concepts. She wandered over to the coffee pot which was, in fact, full. It was already seven AM, and Ziva took her coffee into the bedroom with her while she changed into running clothes. Grabbing her cell phone and gun from the bedside table, she found her mind replaying the previous night's events. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the tables had been turned on her -- she had started out wanting to take care of Abby and now it appeared that Abby was taking care of her. While the lab tech's concern was unfounded and her actions unnecessary, Ziva was touched by the gestures and the emotion behind them.
The air was chilled and the paths filled with people. She returned polite greetings with her fellow joggers and tried not to think about Abby. Of course, when she didn't think about Abby, she began thinking about Jen, and her own guilt over not being able to explain to Gibbs what was going on. It was a concerning state of affairs, and if the experimentation produced positive results... She didn't want to think about that.
She got back to her apartment in less time than usual, her frustration with her life turning to adrenaline. She showered and dressed, deciding to walk to the café near her building for breakfast instead of remaining in her apartment.
The morning was chilly, leaves crunching underfoot on the sidewalk as she strolled at a leisurely pace towards the end of the street. A brisk wind kept her company, and everything around her was painted in a dull gray or brown. Inside the café it wasn't much warmer, and she wrapped her hands around her coffee mug tightly, trying to absorb its warmth through her fingertips and the palms of her hands.
The waitress that served her was tall and skinny, with dazzling green eyes that sparkled when she laughed. Ziva did not flirt with her in the same way that she didn't compare her to Abby constantly. Cars rushed by outside of the window, tossing up dust in their wake and she tried to focus on anything but falling asleep firmly held in the arms of a woman whom, no more than three weeks before she had thought hated her. The waitress dropped off her bill and Ziva avoided her eyes.
Her cell rang almost as soon as she stepped outside. It was Jenny's number. Calmly, Ziva tucked the phone back into her pocket and continued walking. Five minutes later, it rang again. This time, she didn't recognize the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi!" Abby's cheerful greeting startled her. "Where are you?"
Ziva blinked. "Hi, Abby. I'm walking to my apartment, why?"
"Uh—" There was shouting on the other end of the phone, and Abby laughed. "What're you doing today?"
"I'm not sure," Ziva frowned in confusion at the phone.
"Okay, I'm gonna stop by to pick you up a little early tonight. Probably around – shut up, I'm on the phone! – sorry, around six. Kay?"
"That's fine. What should I wear?"
"I'll find you something when I get there."
"And why did you want to know where I am and what I'm doing today?" Ziva asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"No reason. Just curious." Abby's voice held no hint of deception, just a casual offhandedness that made it clear that there had been no ulterior motive aside from the Goth's own inquisitiveness.
"I've got another call coming in," Ziva said suddenly, glaring at her phone. "I'll talk to you later."
"Who is it?" Abby asked. Loud music began playing in the background.
"Uh, The Director," Ziva replied, uncertain why it mattered.
"Kay, I'll see you later," Abby yelled over the music, and hung up. Ziva shrugged at the other's strangeness, and accepted the call from Jen.
"Ziva. I tried to call you a few minutes ago and you didn't pick up. Is everything alright?"
"I'm fine, Jen. I guess I didn't hear my phone." It was a blatant lie and they both knew it, but the director had the good grace not to bring attention to this fact. Ziva found herself imagining Abby's reaction to such an obvious deception, and shook her head. The Goth would never let her get away with a lie – or anyone, for that matter.
"Is now a good time?" Jen asked.
Ziva sighed. "As good a time as there's going to be."
"The FBI want to talk to you about the crime scene. Preferably before tonight."
"I can assure you that I recorded everything relevant to the scene in my report, and if I didn't, Gibbs, Tony and McGee certainly did."
"Yes, but at the time you were looking for a murderer. Now, things have changed a little."
"I don't see how—"
"Please, Ziva, just humour them?" Jenny's voice had taken on the gently coaxing tone that Ziva had, in former years found calming and convincing. Now it merely made her feel patronized.
"Fine, Jen. I'll be there in an hour."
"They do want it as soon as possible," the director let the sentence trail off.
"An hour, director. No sooner. I'll see you then." Ziva snapped her phone shut, glaring at it venomously. By the time she arrived back at her apartment, her mind had wandered to what Abby would pick out of her closet to wear that night.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The chapter of cliches.