Rule Number Twelve revised

by romansilence

Back from Israel st the beginning of season six. Ziva and Abby grieve together and get a new chsnce at happiness Ziva/Abby femslash. Please read the disclaimers. Sequel to "Of Guilt and forgiveness."

Disclaimer: the characters and background stories known from the TV show "NCIS" do not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be made.

This is an alternative fanfiction story. Depicting two consenting adult women in love. Including elements of light BDSM. If the name and attitude of one my minor characters, remind you of another Show, it's not by chance "Sanctuary" does also not belong to me but to Damian Kindler and Stage3Media. I apologize for not giving her more room, but I might revisit at a later time.

Pairing: Abby/Ziva. This is a loose sequel to my Jenny / Ziva story "Of Guilt and Forgiveness."

I apologize for the uninspired title. The story has not yet been betaed. So, any and all mistakes are mine alone.

Summary: At the Beginning of season six, Ziva is back the US. Abby helps her grieve for Jenny and offers a new chance for love.

Rule Number Twelve

By

romansilence

After four months in Israel Ziva David, daughter of Mossad Director Eli David, was back in Washington. She had orders to report to NCIS directly after her plane had landed. Instead she knelt on the ground at the cemetery in Arlington in front of Jenny's grave.

Her eyes were red but her face was dry, as always the tears refused to come, but tears would be wasted anyway without Jenny holding her in her arms and telling her that it was alright to feel.

Ziva thought back to the last time she had been on that cemetery, for Jenny's funeral. She had been standing next to Gibbs while one of Jenny's distant relatives had received the folded flag, a man who probably had not seen her in years. Gibbs had had his arm protectively around an obviously distraught Abby. There had been tears in Timothy's eyes. Ziva remembered that she had envied them for being able to openly show their emotions, envied and resented.

To Tim Jenny had been nothing more than a boss. To Abby she had been a sisterly friend. To Gibbs she had been a former lover. To her Jenny Shepard had been everything; she had been her boss, her friend, her lover and the one person in the world whose presence in her life had assured her sanity. No one understood her the way Jenny had, not even Gibbs who in his own, unique way had a lot of insight in her head and her heart. Jenny, she had been the one loving constant in her life and Ziva berated herself for not having told her often enough how much she meant to her, how much she loved Jenny.

And it was her fault that Jenny was dead now.

Accompanying NCIS Director Shepard to the funeral of a fellow agent should have been a routine mission, but things had started to go wrong right after the funeral service. The director had ordered them to take the rest of the day off, and when Ziva had protested Jenny had taken her aside. She had put her hand on Ziva's cheek and told her that she was alright and Ziva should take advantage of the weather and enjoy the sun. She had told her to take care and that she would call should she need anything.

That tender touch alone should have told Ziva that nothing was alright. Jenny was too professional to indulge in public displays of affection. She also should have picked up on the sudden tension in Jenny's posture. She should have followed Jenny immediately instead of joyriding with Tony. The knot in her stomach had gotten tighter and tighter and when they finally had caught up with Jenny and Franks it had been too late. Jenny had been dead and Franks gone.

She had failed in her duty to protect Jenny. She had not been there when Jenny had needed her. She had not been there to keep her from dying. She had not been there to save Jenny. She had not been the one to execute Jenny's murderer.

Ziva had been so angry when she finally had clued in on Gibbs' plan to take out the client of the hit men hired to kill Jenny. When she had arrived at Jenny's house she had been just a few seconds too late. She had rounded the corner when Franks' gun had gone off and she had seen that woman fall. All that had been left to do was to help with the cleanup and make sure that there would be no evidence incriminating anyone at NCIS. Then she had watched from across the street, hidden in an alley, how the fire department had tried in vain to save the brownstone and how they had successfully fought to keep the fire from spreading to the neighboring houses.

It had hurt to see the beautiful building burn, but somehow it had also felt right. The house had been such a reflection of Jenny's personality that the thought alone someone else would make it their home was completely unbearable to Ziva, it was Jenny's house, and now it would always be Jenny's house.

While they had set the charges to fake a gas explosion Ziva had put her necklace with the Star of David on Jenny's desk in the library. It had been a gift from Jenny to replace her first Star of David her mother had given her which had been damaged beyond repair by a sniper bullet meant for Jenny. It had felt right that her talisman would be destroyed together with the house.

She had failed Jenny. She never again would deserve to wear it. That, however, didn't keep her from trying to touch it again and again, even after four months. Ziva still missed it; she probably always would.

-x-x-x-

Ziva's cell phone beeped, the one she had not used in four months. It was the number two on her speed dial, Gibbs. She ignored it. She no longer was afraid of Gibbs' wrath. She had not wanted to come back to America or NCIS and was still surprised at the vehemence of her father's orders.

"That's not open to discussion, Officer David. It's an order. You will return to your former position as Mossad liaison officer under the command of Special Agent Gibbs. You fly out tomorrow morning and are to report to the Navy Yards immediately after your arrival."

There had been nothing to say but, "Yes Sir." But she was still bewildered about those orders. In the past three years, every time she had come back to Israel to visit friends and family her father had always urged her to ask for another assignment, to come back home for good, and now he was the one sending her away?

Had she really just thought of being back home as 'visiting'? Yes, she had, and somehow it did not feel wrong. Israel had stopped feeling like home after her mother had died, and her aunts' attempts to take her place had never been enough, despite their best intentions. Israel was still her country, and she was sworn to protect it. But her home, no, that was something else entirely.

Her desk at NCIS had been her home. Abby's lab had been her home, her old apartment had been her home. Jenny had been her home.

Yes, Eli David had always wanted her to come back to Israel, back at his side, back to be his assistant and trouble shooter, to be what she had been raised to be, the sharp end of the spear; his spear. He even had admitted that he only agreed to send her to America in the first place because he had owed Director Shepard a favor. After Jenny's death he had her where he had always wanted her, an operative unburdened by feelings, and still he had sent her back to a country that supposedly made her weak. It didn't make any sense.

The cell phone rang again, this time it was McGee. Ziva shut it off and removed the battery and chip to make it harder for him to track her down. She was not yet ready to go and play NCIS investigator. She didn't want to be found just yet. She didn't know what she still would have to offer.

Why had that new director asked her father for her return to America? Why had her father agreed to send her back to NCIS? If Ziva would not know her father as well as she did she might have considered the possibility that he had sent her back to Washington to keep her out of harm's way after the bomb in Morocco and everything else before. But Ziva knew better. She knew that to Eli David she was just one operative among many, maybe one he wanted to be successful more than others, but not one to warrant special treatment.

The bomb in Morocco… Singing at that club had been nice, and when the bomb had gone off, she had welcomed the oblivion, and she had been surprised that she had only had survived but had gotten out of it with just a few scratches and bone bruises. She had been surprised to survive, surprised and disappointed.

She had wanted to die, ever since she had seen Jenny's bullet riddled, lifeless body. That's why she had not put up even a token of a fight when the new NCIS Director, Leon Vance, had sent her back to Mossad, back to her father, back to be what she had been born to be, a spy and an assassin.

Jenny had been the only one able to see more in her. Jenny had been the only one to see her as a human being with feelings and scruples – and without her there really was no reason to hold onto that. She had not fought the reassignment because she had not cared anymore.

And of course, her father had welcomed her with open arms, which with Mossad Director David meant that he offered her her choice of assignments. And her first choice had been a rescue mission. It had to be executed quickly and swiftly. It had a high potential of going wrong, and the person sent to detonate the bombs that would destroy the Hamas outpost in Palestine ran the biggest risk. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and Director David had been ecstatic to have one up on the Germans and Americans whose agents had been the ones having to be freed. The follow-up information had given them the locations of an Al-Qaida training camp.

That had been her next assignment. Ziva had infiltrated it to gain access to their computer files. The computer was located in the only air-conditioned building in the compound. It had held a real treasure trove of information. Unfortunately one of the explosives she had set to cover her retreat had been discovered and they caught her when she had just been leaving the computer building. Before they could break her she escaped and blew up the building. She had been their prisoner for two days, two days during which she had done her best to provoke them to kill her, two days during which she had hoped every hit with a fist, every kick with a steel enhanced boot, every slap with the barrel of gun would be the one sending her into eternal oblivion, but that kick or slap had never come. Instead she had heard her people attacking the compound, distracting the two men who had been beating up on her. She had acted on instinct and got her hands on the boot knife of one of her captors. She had cut the throat of one man and stabbed the other in the heart. She had relied on her training and it had worked out.

Her father had visited her in the hospital where she had been treated for two broken ribs, a concussion and too many bruises to count. He had been proud of her and she had received a citation for bravery, and three weeks of downtime. She had been interested in none, not her father's pride, not the downtime or the medal. She had been back on her next dangerous assignment less than ten days later.

This time she had not been allowed to choose for herself. Her father had sent her to a supposedly simple surveillance mission which had turned out not to be that simple and after that he had simply accepted her choices. Her talents and her newfound recklessness got the missions done and brought her people home alive though one of them had landed her in the hospital for two weeks, two weeks during which she had not been able to charm her way to an early release thanks to Director David's explicit orders.

Four months of extremely high-risk missions; and she still was alive – and now she was even back in Washington, back in the United States where she had lost everything, her hope, her heart, her life with Jenny's death.

-x-x-x-

Ziva looked at Jenny's gravestone, simple and elegant, just as she had been, but it said nothing about the woman, the agent, the lover, the friend. Ziva's eyes were burning but she did not deserve to cry.

If not for her Jenny would still be alive. She stretched her hand out, but she didn't dare to touch the stone or retrace the letters. She didn't deserve to touch it. She had failed in her duty and it had gotten Jenny killed.

Jenny would hate it if she ever caught her wallowing in such self-pity. She would laugh at her and tell her not to take herself too seriously. She would tell her that what happened to her had not been her fault and that she had died the way she had lived. Ziva had told herself the same thing dozens of times over the last four months. She knew Jenny would be angry at her and read her the riot act. Jenny would have made her bend over and given her a sound spanking or a dozen to chase those thoughts away – and then she would have made love to her. Now, all alone Ziva just couldn't help it.

Deep down she knew that Jenny could still be alive if she had done what she had been trained to do, if she had been more Mossad than NCIS. Her father had been right to think that America had made her weak. She could not afford to be weak. It would only get more people killed. She had to be strong, strong enough to protect the people Jenny had cared for. It was the least she could do to honor Jenny's memory. She owed it to her.

Ziva once again looked at the headstone. The setting sun reflected off the golden letters as if to encourage her, as if to tell her that she had now found something to live for. Ziva took a deep breath and tried to find the strength to do just that. A necessary first step would be to get up, leave the cemetery and call Gibbs, but she couldn't convince her body to move.

-x-x-x-

Ziva heard the crunching of gravel under high heeled boots coming steadily closer. She would have recognized the specific cadence of those steps everywhere. She knew she should at least stand up to greet her friend, but she didn't. She stayed where she was, kneeling in the grass in front of Jenny's grave.

The footsteps had stopped and Ziva stiffened when she felt Abby kneel down right behind her. Her muscles were as taught as a drawn bowstring when Abby's long arms sneaked around her. And suddenly she wanted to run, hide from the obvious affection the touch conveyed, hide from the fact that she allowed the touch and that despite everything it made her feel better, hide from the admission that she did not deserve to feel better.

"Did you have a good chat with Jenny?" Abby asked.

"Chat?"

"Yes, you know talk about what's going on and what's going wrong, about new and old cases, mutual friends, just stuff. Jenny is a good listener. She never minds if I start to ramble or talk too fast or if I tell her a hundred times how much I miss Team Gibbs, the real Team Gibbs, not the half-cent Xerox that replaced you all. You know, one night I even saw Gibbs sitting here, he didn't talk, it would be completely so not Gibbs if he had. Gibbs does not do the talk thing but he had brought a bottle and they shared a glass or two, I guess. So, Zee, I know you gave up your apartment. Where are you staying?"

Ziva turned to the side. She saw the chequered mini-skirt and a white top and the collar with the blunted spikes but she didn't look up to Abby's face.

"Jenny called me Zee."

"I can stop saying it if it hurts too much, Ziva. I just like the way it sounds, like a cool breeze on a summer's day. So, where are you staying?"

"Mossad rented a hotel room until I have time to look for something else. It's near the Navy Yard."

"That will not do. It's decided, you're coming home with me. There's a guest room with a real bed just waiting for you. You must be tired after the long flight. Let's go and pick up your luggage and pick up some take-away and relax."

Abby let go of Ziva's torso and pulled away. She got to her feet and offered Ziva a hand. Ziva accepted the help. She was a bit stiff from kneeling for so long and still felt the bruises from the explosion in Morocco. Abby not only pulled her to her feet but also in a bear hug, irritating her sore ribs. She kissed her on the cheek and saw Ziva flinch almost imperceptively.

Abby immediately let go of her, "I'm such an idiot. You were blown up not two days ago, just kawoom, and you were all bloody on the news and then I go and make it worse. I'm so sorry, Zee. Oh, God, I did it again, I called you Zee. I didn't think."

Ziva put her index finger on Abby's lips, "I am fine, Abby. I was not blown up. I was just close to an explosion, yes? I am fine, I promise."

To give her words more credibility Ziva hugged Abby back and to her surprise she found that she enjoyed it, "I like the way it sounds when you call me Zee, Abigail," she said with a teasing smile.

"Good. I like saying it, but I promise I will not wear it out. It's for special occasions. Now, let's find your room and check you out."

"We can do that by phone. My luggage is in a locker at the main entrance of the cemetery. I had a cab bring me here directly from the airport," Ziva said softly.

Abby squeezed her hand in sympathy and didn't let go until they had reached her read hearse, and since Ziva was not in the habit of lying to herself she admitted that her hand in Abby's hand felt really good. It was a good fit.

-x-x-x-

The drive to Abby's apartment was mostly silent except for a stop at Ziva's favorite Chinese place for some take-out. Ziva's initial protests that she was not hungry had melted away when Abby simply put some chop-sticks and a container with chicken Gun-Bao in front of her with a tiny pout Ziva despite herself found absolutely adorable and irresistible.

During dinner, and later when they had a glass of wine on the couch the forensics specialist filled her in on everything that had happened in her absence. Ziva had already read about Director Vance's efforts to find the traitor in his office but that had not been more than the bare facts. Abby's point of view gave life to the things she had read on the flight. Ziva even laughed a couple of times when Abby mimicked the quirks and idiosyncratic habits of everyone, even Gibbs or when she mentioned Palmer's sexcapades with Agent Lee. It also strangely augmented the gut feeling she had had from the start that something about the whole thing just did not ring true.

They talked long into the night, that is, Abby talked. She seemed to sense that Ziva was not ready to speak about her time away, as Abby called it. She even only mentioned it once, to scold her that she had not written often enough. When Ziva finally retired to the guest room, she not only fell asleep almost immediately, she also did not dread going to sleep.

Despite having crossed quite a few time zones on her journey Ziva woke at her usual time, an hour before sunrise. Usually she couldn't leave the bed fast enough to escape the memories of her nightmares and threw herself into a long run and a vigorous work-out. This morning was different.

-x-x-x-

This morning she was not alone in bed. Abby was snuggled behind her and held her in her arms. No one but Jenny and her mother had ever held her this way. Abby's touch was just unfamiliar enough to let Ziva want more and she instinctively snuggled a bit deeper into the comforting embrace while a tiny voice inside told her that she should get out of bed and run as far away as she could and that she didn't deserve that kind of intimacy. She didn't deserve to feel so at home in Abby's arms.

"At home", "home" – it sounded good, but could Washington and NCIS really once again become a home to her?

Those last four months, all she had really wanted was to die. She had wanted her life to end, a life in which there was no joy left, a life in which she had failed the woman she loved, a life without her best friend and lover.

Ziva was not naïve. She knew that life everywhere was dangerous, crossing the street could be dangerous. She knew that she couldn't possibly protect her whole team, her friends at all time. Ziva mentally chuckled, Gibbs would head-slap her if he were able to hear her thoughts and Jenny would tell her that she should just get over herself and that despite her considerable skills she was still just human and not some superhero with high tech toys protecting Gotham City. Jenny would also tell her that as long as she did her job as an NCIS investigator to the best of her abilities she had nothing to worry about. Believing those voices in her head, however, was easier said than done… Abby stirred behind her, probably prompted by the change in Ziva's breathing rhythm.

She heard Abby whisper, "Dear God, please, let her still be asleep."

Abby began to slowly pull her arm away but Ziva stopped her by putting one hand on top of Abby's, "It's alright, Abby. It feels good to be held, yes."

Abby stopped her movements but her words made it clear that she was still nervous, "I didn't plan on falling asleep. I wanted just to hold you until you had calmed down. You cried out for Jenny and I couldn't get you to wake up and I couldn't just stand there and let you suffer and then I pulled you in my arms and I didn't want to stay…"

Ziva turned around and put a finger on Abby's lips. She smiled at her and said, "Thank you, Abigail. It means a lot to me that you care. We still have three hours before we have to be at the Navy Yard. That's enough time to take a long nap. Close your beautiful eyes again and let me watch over you. I'm sorry that I woke you up last night."

Abby smiled at the offer, but she still felt that she should protest, a protest Ziva stopped by once again putting her finger over the Goth's lips.

"It's fine, Abigail. Rest!"

"Who am I to contradict Zee with the nifty Ninja skills," Abby said and closed her eyes.

Her arms were still draped around Ziva's body. Abby's breathing quickly evened out, her features relaxed and Ziva had the chance to study her openly. She had to suppress the urge to run her fingers through Abby's dark hair or let her hand rest on Abby's cheek.

Abby was simply adorable with her grandmother nightgown and without make-up. In Ziva's eyes it made her even more beautiful. Ziva mentally shock her head at herself and her on-going crush on one Abigail Sciuto, forensics specialist extraordinaire. Jenny had teased her about it often enough. She had even encouraged her to ask Abby out on a date.

Jealousy had never had any place in Ziva's relationship with Jenny and they never had been exclusive. Loving Jenny had been so easy. It had come naturally to her, as easy and natural as breathing. Her feelings for Abby had never been as easy to define. Yes, she was sexually attracted to Abby, who wouldn't. Abby was a beautiful woman, she was funny, almost frighteningly intelligent, headstrong; everyone with half a brain couldn't help being attracted to the enticing package, but for Ziva it was more than that.

She genuinely liked Abby. She had from the beginning though then it had been rather one-sided. Not that she could not understand from where Abby's hostility had come. Caitlin Todd had been Abby's friend, a role she knew she never would be able to fill. Yes, by now Abby saw her as a friend as well, but she never could or wanted to take Kate's place.

And just like Jenny Kate was dead because of her. She always would feel guilty about that, guilty that she had not stopped Ari in time, guilty that she had not seen her brother for what he had become before it had been too late. As his handler and his sister she should have known that he had lost it gone over the egde and should have acted earlier.

Ziva sighed, and Abby tuned in her arms and ended with her head on Ziva's shoulder. With the next breath she threw one of her long legs over Ziva's thighs and draped an arm over her stomach. Usually Ziva didn't like to be pinned down in any way. Even with Jenny she had sometimes fled a too tight embrace. Abby's unconsciously possessive gesture, however, elicited feelings of peace and completion.

Do I really feel complete?, Ziva asked herself, and a myriad of answers flashed through her mind about why she didn't deserve to feel completion or even contentment and why it was not fair to Abby because she simply deserved better than a broken ex-assassin. But there was also another voice telling her to enjoy the moment and the other woman's abandon and innocent beauty as long as she got the chance.

So, Ziva spent the time until Abby's alarm clock rang in the other room just looking at Abby and committing every single detail of her face to memory. She never before had had the chance to do that this openly and unafraid of being caught staring. Her only regret was that Abby's eyes were closed, those deep, inviting green eyes the color of the Mediterranean sea on a sunny spring day, those eyes sparkling with childlike glee when she had one up on the boys, especially on Tony, those eyes that could narrow in anger but also in confusion…

Abby didn't even stir when her clock radio or whatever she used to wake up began to blare. It sounded more like a flock of panicking geese than something even Abby would have defined as music. Ziva couldn't help but wince. It hurt her sensitive ears, and she was really grateful that the closed door muffled the cacophonic sound. Abby smiled and snuggled closer when it finally stopped. Abby licked her lips and without thinking about it Ziva gave her a chaste kiss.

Abby's lips were so soft and the fresh moisture applied by her tongue tasted better than the finest wine. The noise from the other room resumed when she was only a quarter inch away from stealing a second kiss. This time it was considerably louder and even more annoying. Ziva cursed internally, convinced that human ears had not been built to withstand such an infernal sound.

She sighed and slowly extricated herself from Abby's arms. Ziva took a quick shower and put on some strong coffee, having brought her own special blend with her. The scent of the fresh brew wafting through the apartment brought Abby soon to the kitchen, still half asleep. She blinked and made a beeline for the mug with the skull ornaments Ziva had just put on the counter for her. Abby picked it up with both hands, brought it up to her nose and inhaled. A smile appeared on her face and Ziva heard a soft sound, somewhere between a relieved sigh and a moan.

"Good morning, Abigail," Ziva said when Abby finally was awake enough to look over the rim of the cup.

The expression on Abby's face was at the same time confused and grateful. Ziva had to grab the rim of the counter top to keep herself from kissing her soundly. Abby looked so utterly adorable but Ziva didn't want to scare her away by acting too impulsively. When Abby had finished the content of the oversized mug she looked a hundred percent more awake and returned Ziva's greeting.

"Good morning, Ziva. Thank you. Is there more?"

Ziva refilled the mug silently and filed away the fact that Abby was evidently not a morning person. It was such a marked contrast to her usual bubbly, chatty self, Ziva found it charming and enticingly cute.

The search for the coffee maker earlier had informed Ziva that the beautiful Goth seemed not to be much of a cook. The cupboards, the small pantry and the fridge had been completely bare of food, except for a slice of leftover pizza with mold on it.

Ziva waited until Abby had drained the cup and said, "I will go to the bakery at the corner we passed yesterday while you take a shower, yes."

"You don't have to, Ziva. We can grab something on the way," Abby answered.

"It is not a problem. I already showered. It will pass the time."

"Thank you, Zee."

-x-x-x-

Abby and Ziva quickly established a routine. They went to bed in separate rooms, one to sleep in a coffin, the other to sleep in a bed, and woke up snuggled in each others arms in the guest room. After the second night Ziva had stopped to apologize for her nightmares and Abby had stopped to try to return to her own room.

Ziva always woke first and put a pillow in Abby's arms when she got up. She went for her morning run, showered and prepared coffee and breakfast. Abby drove them to the Navy Yard and when work allowed it Ziva cooked for them. They talked a lot and laughed a lot. Abby took cooking and self-defense lessons from Ziva. Ziva learned to appreciate Abby's eclectic taste in music and movies. They began to touch each other more than strictly necessary without being aware of it. In other words, they were steadily growing closer.

Ziva regularly studied the real estate adds in the newspaper and on the internet but the few apartments she found worth checking out did not meet her criteria for one reason or the other when she went for a viewing with Abby.

-x-x-x-

About three weeks after Ziva's return, after a frustrating case of criminal negligence that had led to the death of two sailors Abby suggested a girl's night out. Ziva eagerly agreed but laughingly said that Abby would have to dress her up for her not to stick out like a sore finger. The twinkle in her eyes told Abby that she had slipped on purpose. So, she only grinned and pulled Ziva enthusiastically in her room to have a look a Ziva's wardrobe.

When Ziva had left for Israel she had not bothered to pack up her apartment. The Israeli embassy had organized the storage of her things and she had had sent her clothes to Abby's apartment only a few days before.

Abby's serious expression when she studied the content of Ziva's closet was so sweet, Ziva wanted to pull her close and kiss her. Focused on Abby's face Ziva instinctively jumped back when Abby suddenly squealed and took a dark red evening gown out, similar to the one she had worn in Morocco.

"This will be appropriated for a Goth club?" Ziva asked sceptically.

"No, silly, but now that I know that you have something like this I'll find an opportunity for you to wear it for me. It will be a challenge. No, for tonight I have something with a bit more fabric in mind. Leather pants would be good."

"I can do leather pants," Ziva pulled a pair of black leather slacks out of her dresser. Abby combined them with a black, formfitting T-shirt embroidered with Celtic knots and combat boots.

"I'll get some accessories while you get dressed, then I'll do your make-up".

A couple of minutes later Abby was back with a wooden box she almost dropped when she saw Ziva. The pants were riding low on her hips and there was just a hint of tanned skin between T-shirt and leather visible. Her hair was falling down her back and her eyes were sparkling at Abby's stunned expression.

"Wow! You're beautiful, Zee. Not that you're not always beautiful. You are but… wow!"

"Thank you, Abby. You wanted to add some accessories, yes?"

Abby mutely nodded and took a two inch broad black leather belt with a skull shaped buckle from the box. Ten minutes later Abby had applied understated make-up that accentuated Ziva's eyes and cheek bones. She had left the box open when she returned to her room to get ready herself. Ziva put her dress back and rearranged a stack of T-shirts. She combed her hair until it shone and then there was nothing to do but to wait for Abby.

She walked aimlessly around and her gaze fell on the contents of the box. Next to the indentations reserved for the belt was another one and a half inch wide leather strip adorned with smaller versions of the skulls on the belt. Ziva took it out and studied the remarkable detail of the silver metal. Tiny differences between the seven skulls told her that they probably had been made by hand, a closer inspection told her that the metal was pure sterling silver.

Ziva curiously studied its ends. She saw a closing mechanism and pressed down on one end. It was some kind of snap lock. She closed it gently and looked intently at the almost indiscernible seam and the tiny hole apparently meant for a key. Ziva walked over to her dresser and retrieved a set of lock-picks. She chose one of the smallest and the snap lock opened in seconds.

Unconsciously fascinated she repeated the process twice and standing in front of the mirror Ziva held the collar against her throat. It gave her whole appearance an added quality that not only looked good, it also felt right as if it were meant to be.

Ziva almost dropped the collar when she heard Abby's voice coming from behind her, "You are very beautiful, Ziva David. Let me fasten it for you."

Ziva turned around to look at Abby, surprised that she had not heard or sensed her coming. Her eyes widened and she had to swallow at the sight of Abby's black and dark purple outfit. Her plateau boots were higher than usual and her make-up more elaborate.

Still holding the collar Ziva just stared at her. Her hands slowly sank down and finally she said, "You are perfection, Abigail."

Abby smiled at her, that full blown smile she reserved for special occasions, that smile that was bright enough to power half of the DC area for a year, the smile that had Ziva's heart skip a beat the first time she had seen it, then directed at Gibbs, the smile that let her forget to breathe the first time it had been directed at her.

"Perfection!"

"You are the exotic beauty here, Zee. I can guarantee that you will turn heads tonight. Come, turn around. Let's see if it fits. It would complement your outfit."

Abby voice was slightly trembling as she said that but Ziva didn't dare to ask why. Instead she handed over the collar, pulled her hair out of the way and turned around. She felt Abby only inches behind her, almost close enough for their bodies to touch. She smelled Abby's shampoo and the subtle scent that could not be attributed to any hygiene products but was solely and uniquely Abby, the scent she longed to explore, the scent that drove her to take cold showers even after her exhausting morning run.

The collar touched her skin and for a moment her training screamed at her to run as fast and as far as she could. A collar was a sign of subservience, of imprisonment, of enslavement. Ziva was ready to bolt, but Abby's fingertips brushed over her skin, a probably unconscious touch that let Ziva's heart beat faster, not in fear, in anticipation. The leather pressed against her larynx. The heat of Abby's hand slipped over her shoulder and her heartbeat was thundering in her ears. Time seemed to stand still.

Abby let the collar click shut, the slight pressure at her throat disappeared. Abby's hands were resting on her shoulders. They grounded her, calmed her and she became aware that her eyes were closed. She opened them and looked at the image of herself and Abby in the mirror. Abby towered over her, the skulls gleamed in the light of the vanity. Ziva put her right hand over Abby's, a sense of calm and peace pervaded her whole being. It made her feel safe, as safe as she once had been in Jenny's arms.

Before they left the apartment Abby triggered a hidden compartment at the front of the box that had held the belt and the collar and pulled out a key and a keychain with tiny skulls on it. She gave it to Ziva, "Here, Ziva, just in case it gets too much."

-x-x-x-

Abby dragged Ziva to the dance floor of the downtown club right after the doorman had waved them in ahead of a long line of party-goers who had stopped their protests after one glare from Ziva. The former assassin also glared at everyone on the dance floor that got too close to Abby.

At first Ziva had had no idea how to move but she quickly adapted to the long periods that invited smoothly swaying and the rapid bass-heavy beat that had the whole room stomping and jumping. Ziva quickly found that as far as conditioning went it was as effective as a work-out at the gym with the added bonus that here she got to see Abby losing herself in the music. When after about half an hour the first slow song came on they retired to the bar and had a bottled drink.

After three rounds of dancing Abby excused herself to go to the bathroom while Ziva stayed at the bar. Only moments after Abby had left Ziva's sight Ziva found herself under observation by a tall muscular woman at the other end. She decided to ignore her while her thoughts went back to that last dance they just had had. It had been relatively fast paced and Abby had first pulled her close and then whirled her around a bit and they had ended with Abby's front pressed against Ziva's back, their fingers intertwined, swaying in rhythm. She had been tingling all over and still wanted nothing more than to pull Abby in a passionate kiss.

Ziva sighed. There was no reason to believe that Abby shared her desire, her longing.

She looked up when the bartender put some sort of fruity cocktail in front of her, something she would not have chosen for herself in a million years.

"With compliments from Lady Ariel," he said.

"I do not want it. Tell her, thank you, but no," Ziva answered.

"She will not take that well."

"That is not my problem. Remove the drink, yes," Ziva let a bit of her temper show and the man hurried to the other end of his domain, drink in hand.

Ziva went back to her musings though she now had her senses on alert. She tracked the muscular woman's movements in the mirror behind the bar when she talked to two other persons, a man and another woman. All three soon came directly towards her. They were closing in on her but she did not move and tried to ignore them.

Abby had told her earlier that this was her favorite club due to the good music and the easy-going, everything goes atmosphere. Ziva didn't want to risk getting thrown out for starting a bar fight. So, she didn't react when the woman addressed her.

"It's not polite to refuse a drink, and no one is impolite to Lady Ariel."

Ziva still didn't move or say anything.

"Turn around and look at me when I talk to you, little bitch. Lady Ariel demands respect."

The woman's voice was obviously meant to sound intimidating and full of authority but Ziva was far from impressed. She knew that it would not take her more than twenty seconds to take all three of them down.

A meaty hand grabbed her shoulder and she allowed herself to be turned around. The man was about a head taller and three times as heavy as Ziva, but most of his mass was fat instead of muscles.

"Lady Ariel is to be obeyed," he said in a voice that sounded more like thunder than like actual words, attracting the attention of quite a few by-standers. Ziva calmly looked at the so-called Lady Ariel. She just looked at her and let a bit of the danger show, more than with the barkeeper but not enough to give her more than a hint of the true extent of her abilities. The woman did not seem to get the message.

"Show some respect, bitch, or Lady Ariel will teach you that lesson," she said.

From the moment the man had turned her around Ziva had kept part of her attention on the bartender who currently was on the phone and on Abby who was pushing her way through the onlookers.

She must have heard at least some part of the conversation because she said, "Recent psychological studies prove that people who talk about themselves in the third person suffer from a personality deficiency disorder."

"Shut up, you cunt," the other woman said and tried to backhand Abby.

Ziva's hand shot up and redirected her hand which then slapped hard against Lady Ariel's cheek, hard enough to make her lose her balance for a moment. Ziva pulled Abby behind her and assumed a defensive stance.

Ariel boxed the man on the shoulder, "Do something, you moron! Don't just stand there and let your Mistress get insulted."

In the time it took the man to ball his fists his female counterpart had drawn a knife, a switch blade, from behind her back. Ziva got into the woman's personal space and grabbed her wrist. She triggered a pressure point, the knife fell to the floor. Ziva followed up with an elbow to the woman's solar plexus that made her double over and finished her off with a precise karate chop to the neck, just in time to keep the man from taking hold of Abby' by kicking out and making him fall over the woman. Lady Ariel bent down to pick up the knife. Ziva was faster and kicked it back towards the foot of the bar.

"Stand down!" She said menacingly.

Ariel did not listen. She rushed forward in an effort to pull Ziva to the floor but collided with the Mossad agent's knee. Ziva took care to only hit her sternum and not the throat or chin. She had no intention to kill or seriously hurt her. Ariel landed hard on her behind.

Ziva turned half around to make sure that Abby had not been harmed but kept the trio in her peripheral sight, "Are you alright, Abigail?"

"I'm fine, Zee. What did they want? I've never seen people this rude in here. They didn't harm you, right? I mean of course they didn't. You're the Spy Queen. They would not be able…"

Ziva put a finger on Abby's lips and smiled at her, "I am fine , Abby. It's not your fault that those people are rude… and stupid:"

With the last word she whirled around and decked the man who had gotten back on his feet with a solid right hook that sent him back down to the floor and into oblivion.

Ziva let her eyes roam over the half circle of onlookers as if to dare them to try anything. Her senses were on full alert and she snapped into pre-attack mode when Ariel started to get up again. Before the woman had reached hip-level the crowd parted as if on auto-pilot and gave way to a dark haired woman followed by two men who seemed to be easily twice the size of her unconscious attacker.

"That's quite enough of that," the woman said quietly and Ariel froze in mid-movement.

The woman exuded authority and danger; and Ziva's defenses went to high alert. She gauged her chances to take out the men and was confident that she could do it without exposing Abby, the woman was a different question, however.

Abby squeezed her shoulder and whispered, "She's a friend, Ziva," and pushed past her right into the woman's arms.

"Helen, I missed you. I didn't expect you to be here tonight."

"Hello, Abigail. Please introduce me to your friend."

The way the woman said Abby's name was so intimate it sent a bolt of pain through Ziva's chest, but years of working undercover allowed her to keep it from showing on her face.

"Of course, Helen, where are my manners? Helen, this is my friend Ziva. Ziva, this is Helen, she owns the club. She's supposed to be on the west coast for at least another month or two. Had I known that she's in town I would have introduced you right away. She's one of my oldest friends. She taught me everything I know," Abby said with a genuine smile that made the pain settle in a knot in Ziva's belly.

"She's exaggerating, of course. Abby is brilliant in her own right. It's nice to make your acquaintance, Ziva," they exchanged a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you too," Ziva answered.

"I apologise for the rudeness of my guests, Ziva. Do you want to press charges for assault?"

"Charges? No, I do not want to spend the rest of the night at a police station, besides there was no harm done. I made sure not to do any damage to them."

"Good, that allows me to deal with them my way. El, Jo, escort those two out and make sure that every bouncer knows that they are not welcome on my property."

Ariel had gotten back on her feet, "I had every right to claim her. Stick-girl there should take better care of her property, instead of leaving her unattended to and unsecured."

Abby had to hold Ziva back at the insult and as usual Abby's touch instantly calmed her down.

"It's my right. I'm Lady Ariel."

There was no one to hold Helen back. She grabbed Ariel by the front of her shirt and pulled her close until their noses were less than half a foot apart. Helen's voice was calm and controlled but the hint of a British accent Ziva had thought to detect earlier was now slightly more pronounced.

"You are not a lady, Ariel Little. You're a petty excuse for a sentient being. Everyone in this city knows that's its better not to cross me, and yet here you are trying to bully my people. 'The Garbo' is not a life style club and wearing a collar does not mean that one is submissive and even then you would not have the right to simple take what does not belong to you. Don't come back here!"

Helen abruptly let go of the stunned woman, "Gentlemen, if you would do your duty now."

Ariel and the man were marched off, that left only the second woman, the woman who had wielded the knife.

"Get up, Georgia, and look at me," Helen ordered. The look on Georgia's face was somewhere between a defiant child and a prisoner about to face a firing squad. "You should know better than to hang out with the likes of her. I have taught you better, I thought."

Helen bent down and picked up the knife, "I gave you the knife so that you can protect yourself, Georgia, and to help you to focus. It's not meant to be waved in the face of someone with whom you should have no quarrel. From what I have seen of Ziva's reaction she could have easily killed you with your own bloody blade. Did you forget everything I taught you?"

"No, Helen, I'm sorry." The younger woman looked down on her feet.

"Of all the people you could have chosen as companions, why that incompetent? The city is full of people better suited to your needs. And with her it would only have been a question of time before she took advantage of you and your talents."

Georgia kept staring on the floor, "I'm sorry, Helen. Please punish me, beat the wickedness out of me."

Helen cupped Georgia's chin and made her look up, "You know that's not my style. Is this why you went to her? To be punished for imaginary failings?"

"You left, and thought that I was prepared but I wasn't. I felt empty and she was your polar opposite. Please, give me another chance. Let me make it up to you and those I hurt while I was with her," Georgia voice was soft, tears were running down her cheek but she held visual contact with Helen.

"Are you really willing to make amends to those you have faulted while you were under her command?"

"Yes Helen."

Helen's hand was still resting on Georgia's cheek, comforting, protecting, and in a sudden flash she saw herself with Jenny performing the same gesture. This time her training did not keep her eyes from widening at the insight. Ziva got herself quickly back under control and relegated those thoughts to the back of her mind to be taken out and examined later.

"Go home, Georgia. I want you to write down everything you did since we saw each other last. El will make sure that you arrive safely. When you're done come back here and you'll get another chance."

"Yes, Helen, thank you."

Helen turned her attention back to Abby and Ziva, "I apologise for the interruption. Would you allow me to invite you to my booth? It's quieter there and we can catch up, respectively get to know each other."

Abby seemed thrilled at the prospect, so, Ziva just nodded her agreement though it aggravated the painful knot in her stomach. She let Abby and Helen do most of the talking while she used everything she had ever learned about body language and facial expressions to analyze the nature of their relationship.

Abby was always touching and hugging people, but except for the occasional touch on the arm to make a point she was uncharacteristically restrained in that regard. Helen seemed open and relaxed but Ziva also saw that the woman used a fair amount of her attention to study her.

-x-x-x-

Two hours and two drinks later they called it a night and Helen escorted them to the cab. Helen hugged Abby who got in first and then pulled Ziva in a quick embrace. She whispered something in her ear, turned on her heels and left a completely stunned Ziva standing at the open cab door. Abby had to tug on her jacket to snap her out of it. Ziva quickly gave the driver Abby's address but she was still not sure that she had heard right.

Abby squeezed her hand, "Are you alright, Zee?"

Ziva turned her head and looked at Abby but Abby was not sure if she was really seeing her, "What's wrong, Zee? Did Helen do or say something strange?"

"She said something in Jiddish, something she has no way of knowing. I have not heard Jiddish since my grandmother died."

"Helen has many skills, Ziva, among them the ability to see things in people they often do not see in themselves. She's a good friend to have. You'll see. Helen likes you. She usually does not hug after the first meeting. She's old-fashioned that way. So, what did she say that spooked you? Not that anything can spook the Spy Queen, I know, but you…"

Ziva stopped Abby's word flow with a kiss, a hot, passionate, demanding kiss that turned accepting and welcoming the moment Abby started to kiss her back. When they had to come up for air Ziva settled back in the seat but held Abby's hand for the rest of the trip.

Back in the apartment Abby took the initiative and kissed Ziva as soon as the door was closed. The kiss took Ziva's breath away. It was different than any kiss she had ever experienced before. The kiss claimed her, entirely and completely, and she surrendered. It felt right.

When they finally had once again to separate to breathe Abby took two steps back, "That must have been quite something, what Helen said to you."

"She said that I had nothing to fear and that you want me as much as I want you. Was she right?"

"Helen rarely is wrong. I don't know exactly when it happened but I fell in love with you. It hurt so much when you were gone and I didn't know if you're really alright. Your emails, they were so carefully worded, so empty of everything I love about you. It hurt to read them and still I read them again and again because they were all I had telling me that you're still alive."

Ziva closed the distance between them and pulled Abby down for another kiss, a kiss that was soft and reassuring, "I am alive, Abigail. I fell in love with you a long time ago. You do not know how much I wanted to kill that Mawher's guy, just because he scared and threatened you, yes."

"Oh Zee, you're so sweet. I could ravish you right here and now but I want more than a one-night-stand with hot monkey sex. I want you."

"I want you as well, Abigail, more than I know how to say. I want to kiss and worship every square centimeter of your skin but it's late and tonight I just want to hold you in my arms, yes?"

Abby commented the simple wish with a tender kiss and said, "Then lets get ready for bed."

-x-x-x-

When Abby came into Ziva's room after she had changed into her night clothes Ziva was sitting in front of the small vanity and stared at her reflection. She was wearing her usual night attire of shorts and T-shirt and she still was wearing the collar.

Abby stepped behind her and put her hands on her shoulders. The picture they made in the mirror, it looked so right, so perfect, Ziva didn't want the moment to end, but Abby stretched out her hand and Ziva gave her the key. She had braided her hair as she often did at night to keep it from getting too tangled up but she still pulled it aside to allow Abby easier access.

Ziva closed her eyes and felt the collar being removed. She heard Abby put it back in its resting place in the box next to the belt. The side of Abby's hand brushed her neck and Ziva smelled Abby, that special Abby-smell she had come to crave.

"Come to bed, Zee. You have a promise to keep."

Ziva reopened her eyes, her gaze was irresistibly drawn to her now bare throat. She reached up and touched her skin where the collar had been. It felt like a loss, like walking around unarmed.

Ziva slipped under the covers and closed her arms around Abby, and the feeling of safety the collar had given her was back, safety and comfort and utter rightness. Her training told her to question those feelings but there suddenly seemed to be endless possibilities, a real chance at a new life, a life with a woman she knew she loved though she did not yet have the courage to say those three word.

Ziva wished with all her heart that Jenny would be here to talk it through with her and specially to talk her out of the feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness that were the flip side of her new-found hope. Living with Abby had bit by bit given her back her will to live, her joy in life, something her friends and family in Israel had not been able to do despite their best efforts.

She suppressed a snort when that thought brought back the memory of Michael's 'sex is the cure-all, mend-all' philosophy and how that had landed him in the hospital with a broken jaw because he had tried to bring his point across a bit too forcefully and she had lashed out.

A simple innocent touch from Abby, however, was enough to let her heart beat faster and let her crave more contact. Yes, she wanted to live and be happy and she wanted to love and make Abby happy, but was that really fair to Abby? Abby deserved better than her, better than a killer, a weapon in someone's arsenal or as her father loved to put it, 'the sharp end of the spear'. Abby deserved better and a big part of Ziva's mind urged her to get up and run before she tainted Abby's innocence with who and what she really was.

Ziva felt her heart start beating faster. Abby turned in her arms. Her head came to rest on Ziva's shoulder, one of her leg was possessively stretched over Ziva's and the corresponding arm rested on Ziva's stomach. She was pinned down and her heartbeat returned to normal. She felt herself relax and Abby snuggled even closer, claiming her body as she had earlier claimed her lips and mouth and tongue. And despite all of her misgivings Ziva wanted to be claimed. It felt right, just like the collar had felt right around her neck.

Ziva closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of Abby's shampoo and the underlying essence that was just Abby. It made her relax further and the storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions in her head slowly abated.

Abby's hand wandered from Ziva's stomach upwards until it cupped her breast. Even through the fabric of her shirt the touch let goose bumps erupt on her skin and made her nipples stand at attention. Abby's breathing rhythm was still indicative of sleep and the unconscious possessiveness of the gesture increased the Ziva's feeling of rightness and safety tenfold.

Helen's parting words came back to her, words she had not yet shared with Abby, "Trust her, Abigail is strong, strong enough to give you what you need and strong enough to see your soul, its light and its darkness."

Ziva closed her eyes and once again focused on Abby's scent and on how Abby's body felt pressed against hers. If Helen was right then it was not up to her to decide if Abby deserved someone better, someone less damaged than her, it was Abby's decision, and Abby's decision alone. Ziva would simply tell and show her who she was and a quiet voice deep inside of her insisted that her hopes would not be disappointed. A warm wave swept over her at the thought and moments later Ziva was asleep.

-x-x-x-

The sun was already up when she reopened her eyes and it seemed as if they had not moved even an inch during the night. Abby's leg was still pinning her down, her head was still resting on her shoulder and her hand was still cupping her breast, but Abby's breathing rhythm told Ziva that she was not longer sleeping. Ziva raised her head and bent down to kiss the top of Abby's dark hair.

"Good morning, Abigail," she said softly.

Abby in turn raised her head and scooted a bit upwards to allow them to make visual contact, "Good morning, my Zee. Did you sleep well?"

Ziva gave her a quick peck on the lips, "Yes, Abby, I slept well. You were there, so the nightmares were too afraid to come. Thank you."

Abby smiled at her, brightly, and they kissed again. Ziva didn't even consider fighting for dominance over the kiss as she would have with almost everyone else. She just enjoyed and it was heavenly, but even heavenly kisses had to end eventually. They still were staring in each other's eyes and Ziva could have spent the whole day doing nothing else. Abby had other ideas. She moved away from Ziva and Ziva immediately felt the loss.

"Time to get up, my Zee. It's much later than usual but still early enough to go for your morning run. I'll make breakfast while you're out torturing yourself."

"I can live off your kisses alone, Abigail," Ziva said and stretched out her hand to pull Abby back in her arms.

Abby didn't take her up on the invitation and Ziva didn't insist but unconsciously her brown eyes took on a pleading expression and her lower lip was slightly pressed forward. Abby impulsively kissed the tip of her nose.

"You're absolutely adorable when you pout, my Zee, but you know that I'm right about your run. The two times you didn't go because we were apartment hunting before work you were absolutely insufferable all day, fidgety and snippy and short-tempered. You even snapped at Ducky and came close to getting a head slap from Gibbs. Go for your run and get rid of all that energy that seems to build up inside of you over night. You'll get mango pancakes as a reward."

"You do not fight fair, Miss Scuito. I love your pancakes," Ziva said and though her pout had intensified there now also was an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"That's good to hear, Ziva, since it's one of the few things I can cook without your help. Now go. We really have to talk before we can find better ways to get rid of all of that excess energy."

"Is this a promise?" Ziva asked.

"Be a good girl and you'll find out, my Zee."

-x-x-x-

Ziva returned about one and a half hours later and was greeted by the mingling aromas of her favorite blend of coffee and mango pancakes with maple syrup.

"Is there still time to take a shower, Abby?"

"Of course, Ziva, and Zee, I put some clothes out for you but you can chose something else if you prefer."

Ziva found a pair of black drawstring pants on the bed together with a cream colored tank top and a black hooded cardigan of the same silk-cotton mix as the pants. She had bought the combination on a whim almost a year ago on a shopping trip with Jenny but had only worn it once so far. Aside from a pair of equally black socks there was no underwear.

Ziva was already half-ways to the dresser to retrieve something when her eyes fell on the closed box still sitting on the vanity, the box with the belt and the collar. She stopped, turned around and got dressed. Ziva suddenly understood. Choosing these clothes for her to wear had nothing to do with an inexplicable urge to explore the contents of her wardrobe or even to see her dressed in a certain style, no choosing those clothes was an offer. It offered what Ziva craved, safety and control and it offered what she needed, the freedom to choose. On a whim Ziva put her hair up in a Grace Kelly bun, revealing her slender neck and entered the kitchen.

Abby greeted her with a smile, "Hello, beautiful, you ready for breakfast?"

Ziva wanted to answer on the same light-hearted tone but seeing Abby in a pair of tight hipster jeans and a bright red T-shirt that hugged her like a second skin robbed her almost completely off her faculty of speech. She had gotten used to see Abby in baggy sweats or tight leggings in the evenings but she never before had seen her wearing jeans – and the top, it outlined her every curve and made no secret of the fact the she was not wearing a bra.

Ziva just stared until Abby walked over to her and pulled her towards the kitchen counter. She made her sit down, cut a bite-sized piece of pancake, put it on a fork and held it in front of Ziva who instinctively opened her mouth and chewed.

Suddenly her senses exploded. She tasted pancake with just a hint of maple syrup and mango flavor. She smelled coffee and pancake and Abby, that unique flavor that was just Abby and though her eyes were closed she still could see the enticing outline of Abby's body. One of her hands was resting on Abby's thigh and she felt the heat radiating from her body. It was calling to her like a siren's song able to pass through the wax seal Odysseus had used on his men.

Ziva chewed and swallowed and opened her mouth for more without even trying to feed herself. Abby indulged her and waited until she had savored the full flavor of her second bite. Ziva heard Abby put the fork down but she kept her eyes closed. She felt Abby cup her cheek as she had cupped her breast in the night, protectively, possessively. She followed the slight pressure of Abby's hand and turned her head.

"Open your eyes, Zee."

Ziva looked directly into Abby's green eyes, deep and caring and loving with a hint of mischief.

"Eat, my Zee. Feeding you even one bite more would wreak havoc with my control which by the way is slipping just from having you this close. You are very tempting. Eat. There is so much to tell and I don't know how you'll react and there… I just don't want you to hate me."

Abby's voice held none of its usual lightness. So, Ziva impulsively kissed her and said with conviction, "I could never hate you, Abigail, never."

She wanted to add that nothing Abby could have done could ever measure up to the things she had on her conscience. The expression in Abby's eyes, however, kept her from saying anything. She would not have been able to describe it in any of the almost ten languages at her disposal.

"Eat, Ziva, drink your coffee and eat."

Now Ziva saw a hint of fear in Abby's eyes and heard an undertone of trepidation in her voice. It was a combination that caused her an almost physical pain, and she wanted nothing more than to make it go away, but she felt she couldn't, not at the moment. It was not what Abby wanted, what she needed from her. So, she picked up the fork and began to methodically dig into the stack of pancakes on her plate. The heavenly taste put her trepidations on the backburner but she kept her hand protectively on Abby's thigh.

-x-x-x-

They quietly cleaned up the kitchen and after a long moment of awkward silence Ziva pulled Abby over to the living room. They sat on the couch, holding hands. Ziva sensed that Abby was about to speak first but she beat her to it.

"Last night you said that you wanted more than a one night stand with me, and that's what I want as well. But first you need to know exactly what you're getting yourself into. You probably read everything you could find about me on the net or in my file, yes, but that's not enough. It does not tell you who and what I an. Those files give only a sanitized version of what I did. I have a lot of baggage, Abby. There is a lot of darkness and aggression in me and sometimes it's overwhelming and I take it out on others."

Ziva felt a tightening of Abby's grip, "No, please, Abigail, let me say what has to be said. You need to know before you get involved with someone like me."

The pressure on Ziva's hands lessened slightly but Ziva wanted to make sure that Abby would really let her say her piece. So, she just tried to convey her wishes with her eyes alone and after what seemed like an eternity Abby nodded slowly.

"I was raised to be a weapon, Abby, a long range weapon that can just as effectively be used in close quarters. I was trained not to think for myself outside of the purview of the mission and not to ask too many questions. I was trained to put the mission before my own welfare and the welfare of others who got in the way. Collateral damage was something to be accepted and something a weapon had not to worry about as long as the mission was accomplished."

Ziva fell silent and waited for Abby to put two and two together. Abby clenched her fingers almost painfully around Ziva's, "Kate! When did you learn that it was Ari who killed her?"

"I did not want to believe Gibbs, not even when he told me that the rifle my bro… Ari had used was called a 'Kate'. I did not believe it until Ari admitted to it in Gibbs' basement, before he died."

Ziva once again fell silent, berating herself for her slip of the tongue.

"It's alright, Ziva, I know that Ari was your half-brother and that it was you who killed him, not Gibbs."

"How? It was supposed to be a secret."

"When you came to work with Gibbs and the others I did not want you there. I did not want you to take Kate's place, and so I looked for something, for anything to get rid of you. Right after Ari's death Gibbs gave me his report to put into the system, probably more to give me something to do. At the time I didn't give it much thought but I noticed the inconsistencies. When you joined the team I went and checked it out. The blood splatters were all wrong and the position of the body as well. I knew that there must have been another shooter up on the stairs, and not just any other shooter, an expert marksman or rather markswoman. I went to Director Shepard to warn her about you being a killer.

"Jenny just laughed and said that NCIS would be empty if she sent everyone home who had killed in the line of duty, including the director's office. I insisted; that's when she told me that Ari was your half-brother. She told me that you went against everything you had been trained to do to save Gibbs' life, to do the right thing. You executed a murderer and a traitor even though he was your brother. Jenny was right, Ziva."

Ziva cast her eyes down. She wanted to tell Abby that it had been nothing like that and that it did not change who she was, a trained assassin, a killer. She couldn't, she just could not speak and flinched when Abby let go of her left hand and cupped her chin to make her look up.

"Jenny was right, Zee. You followed your heart and your conscience. You are not a heartless killer and so much more than just a weapon."

Ziva looked at her in wonder and Abby pulled her in a quick hug to emphasize her words, "I would not have fallen in love with someone who is just a killer, and Jenny would not have loved someone who is just a killer. Jenny trusted you with her heart, her soul and her body, Zee, and so do I:"

"And yet I got her killed. I could just as well have pulled the trigger myself," Ziva said. "I do not deserve to be loved, especially not by someone like you, by an innocent."

"Oh, Zee, you got that all wrong. You didn't get Director Shepard killed. You and Tony tried to protect her even though she had sent you away, you just couldn't. It was not meant to be."

The sadness and resignation in Ziva's eyes were almost overwhelming Abby when Ziva interrupted her, "If only it were that easy. I knew that something was wrong when she took me aside at the cemetery and told me to take care of myself and enjoy life. I knew, deep down I knew but when I finally listened to myself it was too late. I failed her and there's no way to make it up to her. No way to get her to forgive me as she usually did after a screw-up. If I had been only a few minutes earlier I might have been able to save her."

Tears were brimming in Ziva's eyes but she angrily blinked them away.

"Gods, Zee, do not do that to yourself. Jenny would not want you to be so hard on yourself. You're only human, a human with crazy Ninja skills but still human. Ziva, even if you and Tony had arrived right after the shooting, even if you had arrived before she died, you were in the middle of nowhere. You could not have saved her. Her wounds were too severe."

Ziva didn't say anything but it was evident that Abby's word had fallen on deaf ears.

"Ziva, please, you have to stop beating yourself up. You did everything you could, everything Jenny allowed you to do. She wanted you and Tony to be safe, Zee."

"I could have saved her, Abby. I know I could have saved her," Ziva whispered. "I do not deserve to live while she is dead."

Abby blanched at the raw pain in Ziva's eyes and the blank honesty of her words. Suddenly those emails completely devoid of any emotion Ziva had sent from Israel made horrible sense.

"You did not want to come back to NCIS."

Ziva nodded.

"You didn't want to go anywhere. You wanted you get yourself killed in the line of duty. You wanted to commit suicide, suicide by terrorist. Damn it, Zee. What were you thinking?"

Abby jumped up and started to pace but kept her gaze trained on Ziva who was sitting motionless and looked down on her hands.

"Of all the stubborn, asinine things, that really beats everything for stupidity. How could you? You were not the only one who lost her."

Ziva flinched at that but she didn't look up and she did not try to interrupt Abby. She just kept staring at her hands.

"You can't just throw yourself on your metaphorical sword without thinking about those left behind. What would Gibbs have done if he had lost you for good? How could you even think that I would survive after having lost Kate, and Kate was only my friend. I was not in love with her. Damm, Ziva, say something."

Ziva did still not react. Her shoulders were slumped but otherwise she had not moved. Abby rushed towards her and pulled her in a standing position. She forced Ziva to look at her.

"Talk to me, Zee, please."

"It just hurt too much. Getting killed would have made the pain go away," Ziva said softly. "Jenny was my… my everything."

"She was your anchor."

Ziva nodded.

"Your friend."

Ziva nodded.

"Your mentor."

Ziva nodded.

"Your lover."

Ziva's eyes once again shone with unshed tears.

"Jenny made the pain in my heart go away when I had to do something I hated. She was the only one aside from my mother who really understood me. She kept my heart and my soul safe. Without her, life was no longer worth living."

Abby pulled Ziva in her arms and held her as tightly as she could, "I'm here, Ziva. I love you and I will do everything I can to keep your soul safe. I promise."

Ziva started to tremble and it took a while for Abby to become aware that Ziva was crying. She held her even tighter and maneuvered them to sit back on the couch with Ziva now on Abby's lap. Abby rubbed soothing circles on Ziva's back and whispered to her that she loved her and that everything would be alright. She told her that there was no shame in tears and that they were not a sign of weakness and how proud she was that Ziva trusted her enough to let herself cry in her arms. She said that those tears were a gift she would always cherish, and on and on, until Ziva was cried out.

-x-x-x-

Abby waited for Ziva to raise her head from her chest and gave her one of those heart-stopping brilliant smiles when she finally did look up.

"Come, sweet Ziva, let's get you cleaned up."

Ziva nodded but did not move. Abby only smiled, changed her hold on Ziva and stood up as if she were only carrying her stuffed poop-toy Bert instead of a well-muscled young woman.

"Stop, Abby, let me down. You are going to hurt yourself."

"I'm stronger than I look, Ziva. Enjoy the ride."

-x-x-x-

Abby sat Ziva gently on the rim of the bathtub. She soaked a washcloth and carefully cleaned Ziva's face,

"Close you eyes, Zee. Here, hold the cloth tight to your eyes. It will get the swelling down. I'll get us some dry clothes. I'll be right back."

Abby changed into a form-fitting silver-metallic shirt that vaguely reminded of a medieval chain mail coat though the fabric was as soft as silk. Ziva turned her head toward the bathroom door as soon as she heard Abby come back but she didn't remove the washcloth.

"Keep your eyes closed, my Zee. I don't want the light to hurt them."

Abby removed the wet cloth and found Ziva's eyes obediently closed.

"Let's get you changed."

Abby removed the cardigan, pulled the tank top over Ziva's head and used a warmed towel to pat her chest and face dry. She dressed Ziva in a sleeveless white v-neck T-shirt and let her put the cardigan back on.

"Come, I pulled the jalousies in the living room. Your eyes should be just fine there. Don't be alarmed. It's completely normal. Your tears are salty, they burn. It will go away soon."

They returned to the living room where Abby made Ziva lie down and put her head in her lap, "Rest, sweet Ziva. We'll resume our talk later. And just for the record, nothing you said or could say will scare me away."

Ziva wanted to answer but Abby silenced her with a finger on her lips. A few minutes later Ziva opened her eyes again and studied Abby calm features.

"Abigail, I no longer think that life is not worth living, not when I'm with you."

Abby bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, "That's a good start, my Zee, and we will work on the rest. Are you ready to talk some more?"

Ziva nodded but didn't move from her prone position.

"Do you want to stay like that?" Abby asked.

"I like to feel your fingers playing with my hair and stroking my neck," Ziva said. "Abby, are you still sure that you want me, despite all my demons?"

"I'm very sure, my Zee. You deserve to be loved and one day I will get you to believe that yourself." After a few moments of silence she asked, "You said that Jenny made the pain in your heart go away. How did she do that?"

"She talked to me and she got me to talk. She held me, cared for me, made love to me. She punished me, she forgave me," Ziva answered softly and slowly with a tiny, almost imperceptible smile on her face.

Abby still saw it and smiled back, "How did she punish you?"

"Jenny spanked me when I needed it and the pain in my backside made the hurt in my soul go away."

"When did you need to be punished?" Abby asked.

"When I felt that something I did had endangered the mission or an innocent bystander needlessly or when I had a hard time to forgive myself for something I had to do during a mission or to solve a case. The last time was after the case with Hoffman and Michael Locke."

"Did she only punish you when you asked for it or did she also take the initiative?"

"I asked for it, most of the time. Sometimes she talked me out of it, put things into perspective, but there were three or four times she did not wait for me to ask. She just knew what I needed," Ziva answered.

"Did you ever switch roles, Zee? Did you ever spank Jenny?"

Ziva's eyes widened and her whole body tenses, "No! I would never have raised a hand against her, not even in jest."

"Do you think you could have done it if she had asked you?"

Ziva abruptly sat up and stared at Abby.

"I do not know," she finally said. "Spanking me was hard for Jenny. She did not enjoy giving me pain, even for a good cause. Jenny once told me that her father never even raised his voice at her. Jenny would never have asked."

"One day I might feel the need to be punished, Ziva. Would you do it?"

Ziva studied Abby's mostly non-committal expression to gauge if she was serious or just testing her.

"If you could convince me that you really needed it, then yes, I guess I could do it, though the mere thought of seeing you in pain is the last thing I would ever want, any kind of pain. But from what I got last night at the club, you are more likely to be the one holding the belt or whatever."

"Yes, I am, Zee, but even a dominant sometimes needs to decompress, so to speak. If I had known that someone as unpleasant as that Ariel woman and her cronies would be at the club I never would have brought you there, not with a collar around your neck and without knowing the rules. I did not want to imply anything by letting you wear that collar."

Abby was about to stand up and start pacing again. This time because she was nervous but Ziva stopped her by taking her hands in her own.

"Do not worry, Abigail. It's alright. I enjoyed wearing your collar even if it did not mean what that woman thought it did. I trust you, Abby, and one day I would be proud to wear it for the reason it was made. I know that it's very special for you. I saw it in the way Helen was looking at it," Ziva said.

"The set was a gift from Helen. But Zee, do you really know what you'd get yourself into? I'm not much for full-time submission but I like to be in charge and whenever I am it's no longer a game."

"I was trained to go undercover as a dominant in London before Jenny called me here. I know how to handle all those paddles and whips and restraints and bondage, and I know how it feels, but thanks to Jenny I never had to find out how good a dominant I would have made.

"I'm sure that I would have a hard time with being bound. I have lived through the real thing far too often to see it as enjoyable. What I do know is that I liked the fit of the collar around my neck. I liked the way it looked and I liked the way it made me feel. I felt safe and protected and loved, but that's how being with you always makes me feel."

Abby and Ziva held visual contact; their gazes were locked on the other and they slowly closed the distance between them. Their lips touched, tentatively at first but then Ziva opened herself up and Abby took the invitation. Just like the previous night Abby claimed Ziva's mouth and lips and tongue. And Ziva melted under the touch like she had never before, not even with Jenny. For a moment that thought gave her a slight pang in the heart but it felt too right to question it, too good, and Jenny had always wanted her to be happy.

Ziva pulled Abby closer when the need for air forced them to stop kissing. From her point of view there had been enough talking and she had other, more pleasurable things in mind. She leaned back and pulled Abby with her. The brown of her eyes had darkened and she slipped her hands under the hem of Abby's silver shirt. Her skin was a bit colder than Ziva's hands and she tried to imagine what her tanned hand would look like retracing the cross tattooed on Abby's back.

Ziva had never seen it but it and most of Abby's other tattoos were mentioned in Abby's personal file. She wanted to kiss every square centimeter of Abby's back but when she tried to get closer to her goal by pushing the shirt up Abby stopped her. She sat up again and pulled Ziva in a sitting position.

"Stop Ziva. We're not done talking. You have told me about your ghosts and demons but now you have to hear about mine. You are not the only one with darkness in her life and her soul, and in a way mine is…"

Abby fell silent and cast her eyes down. She had never before even been tempted to tell anyone the whole truth about her and her past but Ziva deserved the truth. She deserved to know that Abby was not as happy go lucky as she appeared to be most of the time. Deep down she doubted that Ziva would even believe her, most of the time she did not believe it herself.

Abby jumped up and started to pace. Ziva had trusted her. She had to return that trust but Abby did not know where to start, how to explain. Ziva saw the fear and indecision and panic on Abby's face and her libido cooled down instantly. She wanted to take all of it away. She wanted to carry her over to the bed and make love to her.

"Abby, please, look at me, please, Abigail." Abby stopped pacing but it took a while until she had raised her head enough to see Ziva's eyes. "I trust you, Abigail. Whatever you're struggling with, I do not need to know. Those last three years, working with you, becoming your friend, falling in love with you I learned all I'll ever need to know about you."

"But you need to know, Zee. It's only fair," Abby protested.

"And you will tell me when the time is right, Abby-mine. I trust you."

"I have to tell you, Ziva, as soon as you know you might not want to have anything to do with me anymore," Abby insisted. "I'm a monster, Ziva. I'm ha…"

Ziva remembered the profile she once had compiled for Ari about everyone in contact with Special Agent Gibbs, including Forensic Specialist Abigail Sciuto and it was as if a whole chandelier was lit suddenly.

So, she put her finger over Abby's lips and said, "No, Abigail. I know what you're talking about. You were a child and you were just defending yourself. Those men wanted to kidnap you. They had already killed your parents, Abby. You did what you had to do."

"If not for me there would not have been a kidnapping. Those men wanted me, they wanted me. They died because of me. If they had not adopted me they could still be alive. I loved them and I got them killed, just like two of the kidnappers."

"You were twelve years old, Abigail. You defended yourself."

"I did more than that. I turned into a monster and it could happen again. I'm a killer," Abby said with a trembling voice.

"Oh, Abby-mine, do not do that to yourself. You are not a monster and you are not a killer. I know what it means to be a killer. It makes you die inside, every time a bit more. You are not a killer, Abigail. A real killer would not waste a stray thought about his victims, you do. Yes, I believe that you are capable of killing, everyone is, but that does not make you a killer."

"But Ziva, it's more…"

Ziva pulled Abby forward and sealed Abby's lips with her own. When the kiss ended she once again put a finger over Abby's lips.

"I know that it's not that easy, Abby. Life rarely is. I love you and I trust you and I'm looking forward to get to know everything about you, but for now I do not need to know everything. For now I trust my instincts, my gut, and both tell me that you are a genuinely good person and my head can provide my guts with three years worth of memories to prove that claim. I already know everything about you that is important to know. So, now, why don't you let me show you how much I love you, on the bed without all of those cumbersome articles of clothing? I want to make love to you and I want you to make love to me, today and tomorrow and every day after that," Ziva said seriously but with a twinkle in her eyes.

Abby relaxed under Ziva's touch and gaze, relieved that she would not have to go into any detail and said, "That sounds like a long time plan, my Zee. I do not deserve it but it sounds too good to pass up. But are you really sure that you want to buy a pig in a poke. I'm hard to get rid off once you've got me."

"Oh, I sincerely hope so, Abigail, but I do not know what a poke is or why you compare yourself to unkosher meat," Ziva said.

-x-x-x-

"Poke is an old Scottish word for bag or pouch. The expression means that you don't really know what you'll get when you open the bag. The sounds and the smell tell you that it's indeed a pig. They do not tell you if it's big or small, healthy, well-fed, docile or vicious. You can't really know."

"The poke you came in is see-through, Abigail, and I do not want to get rid of you. Just being close to you feels so right. I never want that feeling to end. We will, of course, have to be careful at work because I do not want to end up as one of Gibbs' targets at the shooting range."

"You're talking about Rule Number Twelve, right?" Abby asked.

"Never date a co-worker, yes. Gibbs takes that one very seriously, and he also made it very clear that no one messes with his Abby. He would shoot me himself and let my body disappear should I ever hurt you – not that I would expect any less of him. I appreciate that he's so protective of you."

"He's also very protective of you, Zee. He's protective of all of us but you have a special place in his heart. He wants what is best for us both and though he might growl and stare he'll accept that you are what is best for me. He will come around and he knows better than most that some rules are meant to be broken. Trust me on that. I know the boss-man."

"I'll always trust you. And now for something much more important. Wasn't there talk about going to the bedroom or do you want our first time to be in your coffin?" There was still in twinkle in Ziva's eyes but her voice was serious.

"You would really do that, my Zee, in my coffin? Without being grossed out? Tim completely freaked."

"I'm not as easy to scare as Timothy, Abby-mine. I want to make love to you and I don't care if we do it on the couch, the bathtub, the coffin, the back of your car, the desk in the interrogation room, the sleeping bag in your lab."

"Possibilities over possibilities," Abby answered Ziva's playful question with a smile. For now, however, I want to be comfortable while I explore your beautiful body, my Zee, from head to toe and back again, and maybe, just maybe, when I had my fill of seeing you squirm under my touch I might give you the chance to retaliate," Abby said with a wide grin.

Ziva grinned back when she asked, "Do I now have to demurely tell you that I am at your command, Mistress Abigail?"

"No, my Zee, never. We will play together and I will command you then but now I just want to enjoy my new lover. Come, this weekend won't last forever and there is so much to explore."

Ziva heard the caution in Abby's voice but didn't comment on it. She already had decided that she would do everything in her power to make Abby happy. She let herself be pulled to her feet and they walked the few steps to the bedroom, hand in hand.

-x-x-x-

Abby quickly undressed herself. She too was not wearing any panties and Ziva's heart skipped a beat when she saw Abby's clean shaven mound. She had already taken off the cardigan but her hands were frozen on the hem of her top at that sight. She wanted to sink down in front of her and just inhale the smell but suddenly Abby was right in front of her and pulled the top over Ziva's head. She opened the string holding the yoga pants. Ziva heard them sink to the floor but the next moment coherent thought completely fled her.

Abby's lips were on her but instead of claiming her as she had done earlier she started a playful exploration. Ziva responded in kind. Her hands were roaming over Abby's back and buttocks. Her heartbeat picked up. She felt herself moving and suddenly they were on the bed, side by side, still in each others arms, still kissing.

When they finally had to break the kiss Ziva saw that Abby's eyes hand changed color form their usual deep green to a dark forest green with silver-blue sparkles, unaware that her own orbs had also darkened considerably. Abby licked her lips, if instinctually or intentionally Ziva couldn't tell but it was more than she could resist.

She darted forward and kissed Abby. She claimed her as she had been claimed and rolled on her back, pulling Abby on top of her. One of Abby's knees came to rest between Ziva's thighs and Ziva pulled the taller woman even closer. For a few precious moments Abby gave in and let her weight rest completely on Ziva, but then she pushed her weight up on an arm and a knee. She broke the kiss and Ziva's disappointed sigh sent shivers through her body.

Abby kissed the tip of Ziva's nose and began to lay a trail of butterfly kisses along the jaw line and down the throat. She saw Ziva's pulse point throbbing in rhythm with her heartbeat and resisted the urge to suckle it and leave a mark. Abby kissed her way down to the valley between Ziva's breasts and then up to the right nipple. It was already hard and Abby drew it gently between her teeth.

Ziva arched her back for more contact and Abby used her free hand to stroke the other breast. Ziva's moan was deep and needy. Abby rolled the nipple between her thumb and index finger, goose bumps appeared on Ziva's skin.

"Abby please."

Abby moved her knee closer to Ziva's centre, just enough for a slightly brushing touch. Ziva squirmed under her and Abby smiled around the nipple she was now flicking.

Ziva was so incredibly responsive, it was fantastic, addictive, arousing, the perfect submissive. And then Ziva let her hands that had rested on Abby's hips roam over her backside but not in the more or leas random pattern she had used earlier, no, Ziva's fingers were retracing the contours of the cross on her back, the contours of a cross she had never actually seen.

Abby felt heat shooting towards her centre. She felt the wetness between her thighs. She smelled the scent of her own arousal mingling with Ziva's sweet scent. Abby wanted to taste her but she also wanted to draw it out a bit longer, so she repositioned her weight on her other arm and closed her lips around the other breast.

The tips of Ziva's fingers had found a rhythm on her back, retracing first the outer and then the inner contour of the tattoo. She pressed against Ziva's blunt fingernails and groaned around the nipples when a wave of power rolled from her back through her whole body and finally settled in her heart. Patience and exploration forgotten, she pushed herself down between Ziva's willingly spreading legs and went down on her.

The scent became overpowering before Abby had even reached her goal. She licked the wetness from the outer folds and then parted them with the tip of her tongue, indulging in her first taste of Ziva's sweet nectar. And it might just be the best thing she ever had tasted. It was musky and sweet, a bit salty and succulent, just like Ziva herself absolutely intoxicating. Abby decided that feasting on Ziva could possibly become one of her favorite things to do. It was so good, and Ziva's moans and groans were music to her ears.

"Please, Abby, I need to touch you," Ziva finally begged.

Abby reached for Ziva's hands and guided them one after the other to Ziva's breasts without interrupting her caresses of Ziva's centre. And Abby's ministrations were so distracting that it took Ziva a while before she understood that Abby wanted her to play with her nipples and breasts. Abby's hands had slid down back to her hips and held her firmly.

Ziva closed her eyes, the hands holding her securely, her own hands doing Abby's bidding, her centre on fire just from being licked, her heart beating in her throat. Ziva let herself go, she abandoned her defenses and gave herself over to those sensations. She felt free, light, safe, whole.

And then Abby pressed her tongue flat against Ziva's engorged clitoris. Ziva reflexively pinched her nipples, her abdominal muscles clenched and her hips bucked.

Abby kept up the pressure for a few heartbeats. She felt Ziva's rapidly beating heart in the pulsing of her clit. Her own nipples were stone hard and throbbing with need.

Ziva begged, "Please, Abby, take me, make me yours, please go inside. Let me feel you taking me."

The throaty voice and desperate pleas almost sent Abby over the edge but she sternly called herself to order. She wanted to feel her fingers squeezed by Ziva's inner muscles but not just yet. So, she abandoned the hard, enticing nub and returned her attention to Ziva's folds. There was so much wetness to lap up, so much to explore and taste and commit to memory.

Her thumbs stroked Ziva's still raised hips soothingly until she let them sink back on the mattress. Abby wanted to praise her for understanding her signals so well but that would have meant to stop what she was doing. It would therefore have to wait.

When she was sure that Ziva had calmed down and had gotten used to her caresses she removed her hands from Ziva's hips and began to stroke her left thigh and her flat hard-muscled stomach. She could feel Ziva's muscles ripple under her fingers and the thought that Ziva could just throw her off of her at a moment's notice let Abby lose more of her tenuous hold on her own arousal.

Abby knew that she was running out of time. So, she pressed her left hand flat on Ziva's stomach and entered her vagina with three fingers. They entered easily and she pushed in as deeply as she could. Ziva's walls immediately closed around the intruders. Abby bent down and began to lick Ziva's clit.

Ziva's inner muscles clenched even more. Abby tried to wriggle her fingers to give her even more stimulation but Ziva was too strong. She had her effectively trapped, unable to remove her fingers. It took Abby's whole concentration to get the first joint of her index finger to move up and down, and it had been just at the right place and angle.

Ziva's whole body tensed and shuddered. She shouted Abby's name over and over again, in between a lot of ohs and ahs and gods. And Abby was propelled into a strong climax as well, sweeping both of them away. It left her just enough control to roll to the side before she collapsed next to Ziva.

While Ziva was still riding out the last waves of her orgasm, Abby's left hand was already soothingly stroking Ziva's stomach and sides. The clenching finally subsided and Abby gently pulled out, eliciting a disappointed sigh from Ziva. Abby quickly licked her hand clean and started to clean Ziva's folds and thighs with her tongue. She didn't want to waste a single drop of Ziva's divine nectar. She took her time but she also did not draw it out unnecessarily. It was only meant as a soothing gesture, not to send them right into another bout of love-making.

When she was finished she crawled up to the headboard, stretched out next to Ziva and pulled her on her side and half on top of her taller body. Ziva snuggled against her side and let her head rest on Abby's shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her breathing still ragged. A few minutes of comfortable silence later Ziva opened her eyes and made visual contact with Abby.

She smiled up to her and said, "Thank you, Abigail. Now, it's my turn, yes."

"We have time, my Zee. You were so beautiful that I too had my fill, and you taste so good that I would love to just start all over again."

"I want to taste you, Abby. I have dreamed of tasting you for so long, please, Abigail."

Abby gave her one of those 'able to illuminate DC' smiles and kissed her. She considered asking Ziva about the small tattoo at the inside of her right thigh, but Ziva's pleading let her decide that it could wait.

The kiss quickly turned passionate and this time Abby let Ziva take the lead, and she quickly found out that Ziva was as breathtakingly beautiful providing pleasure as she was at receiving it. After that she quickly lost command of her mental capabilities.

Ziva made good on her promise to explore every single square centimeter of Abby's body. She was methodical and playful at the same time. Her eyes were almost black with desire and every time her gaze met Abby's a new wave of arousal rushed directly to Abby's center. She moaned and pleaded and Ziva complied with every single one of Abby's requests, holding her at the brink of orgasm for what seemed to her to be an eternity. And then she started to talk.

Ziva told Abby how beautiful she was and how much she loved that particular dimple or freckle or the eternity tattoo on her left ankle and the ankh on her shoulder, in French. She talked about Abby's eyes and her smile and how sexy she found the way Abby arched her back and the hard pebbles of her nipples.

"Tellement belle, mon amour. T'es ma beauté sans defaut," Ziva whispered in Abby's ear while stroking one of her breasts and flicking her clit, "mon âme sans blame. Je t' aime, ma belle, ma douce mignonne, ma savante accomplie."

Ziva kept whispering during Abby's orgasm and while she slowly calmed down, and when she was sure that Abby was alert enough to really understand what she was saying she added, "I love you, Abigail Sciuto."

Abby gave her that special smile, that smile that never failed to let her heart skip a beat.

"Je t'aime aussi, Ziva David, mon étoile resplendissante."

"You understand me?" Ziva asked in surprise.

"I grew up in New Orleans, my Zee, you can't grow up there without picking up at least a bit of French, and later my teachers insisted that I needed to be fluent in at least one language other than English to have a well-rounded education, but I'm not half as good at languages as you are. They don't come naturally to me."

"Science comes naturally to you, that's more important than languages."

They both smiled, yawned and started to giggle like children. They still quickly fell asleep, wrapped in each other's embrace and woke up in a tangle of legs and arms in the early afternoon.

-x-x-x-

It was still warm and relatively early when Abby and Ziva returned from their early dinner at an Italian restaurant Abby liked. The food had been delicious but they both had been drawn back to the apartment. Saturday was almost gone and there was so much left to explore. They undressed quickly and climbed back into the bed.

They faced each other and pulled the comforter up to their naked shoulders. They looked at each other, both on the verge of giving into their desires and spend the night making love. They didn't touch, instinctively knowing that the slightest skin contact would wash away their will to talk.

"You said that me wearing your collar is not a game, earlier. I need to know what you mean by that. I need to know how much submission you need or expect or want," Ziva said after she had focused her thoughts away from the inviting curves of Abby's breasts visible under the thin comforter.

Abby's eyes widened. Ziva felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach when she didn't answer immediately but she kept visual contact with Abby. She gave her a tiny smile. It was as if she were able to see Abby think, like in the lab when she was about to come up with a new way to find the evidence her team needed, just more subtle.

"No one ever asked me that, Ziva, and I really don't know how to answer that. I know what I don't want. I don't want a full-time submissive, a slave. I want a partner who enjoys to follow my orders unconditionally every once in a while, almost unconditionally since there's the safe word and I'll never disrespect that. I want a partner who can put me in my place when I get too full of myself. I never want to forget that my partner's submission is a great gift."

Ziva put her hand on Abby's hand lying between them on the sheet. Abby smiled as if to thank her.

"The truth is, Zee, that even if the collar you wore that night will never be more for us than an accessory I would still be happy just having you at my side. I have never felt what I feel for you. I don't need your submission. I need your love."

Ziva squeezed the hand she had been holding and raised it up to her neck, "I liked the way the collar felt around my throat, the way it made me feel, but I will not wear it just for aesthetic reasons. It means too much to you, yes."

"Oh, sweet Ziva," Abby pulled Ziva close and kissed her exuberantly. "You are right, my Zee, the set means a lot to me. Aside from the belt and the collar there are cuffs and a leash and nipple-clamps, but I do not care if we ever use them. You are more important than that."

"I want to be yours, Abigail. It makes me feel safe and grounded and loved. I do not know how much submission I can give you, yes. I know I can play a submissive and do it convincingly. Playing roles was part of my Kidon training. We learned to show people what they want to see while keeping the better part of ourselves protected, set apart and focused on the mission. I don't want to play roles with you, not like that. I will need your lead… your guidance."

"Then you will have to choose a safeword, my Zee," Abby said.

She tried to keep her expression neutral but Ziva could see that she was not completely at ease, so she answered without hesitation, "Shepard."

"It's a good choice, Ziva. Whenever you use Jenny's last name I'll stop whatever we're doing, no questions asked and we will talk about what went wrong. Usually when I prepare a scene with a submissive I do not know well I let them answer a questionnaire about their limits, things they like, things they don't like, things they don't do, things they'd like to try, but I doubt that this would be the best way with you. We will just have to find out step by step, learning by doing."

"Actions speak louder than words, yes?" Ziva said with a disarming smile.

"Much louder, my Zee, and I think we had enough words for now. I'd rather make love to you."

"I'd like that, Abby-mine."

They embarked on another journey of discovery that lasted far into the next night with a few hours of sleep in between short talks, lengthy sessions of love-making, careful explorations of Ziva's submissiveness, a gallon of ice cream, long drawn-out showers and the simple feeling of holding the other and having the other all to themselves.

-x-x-x-

Over the next week the necessities of work were relegated to the back of both their minds. They did their work with their usual dedication but both of them couldn't get home fast enough to be alone. Ziva used her safe word once when Abby bound her naked to a chair, that is, she slipped out of the restraints and then used her safe word. She had been right during their first talk when she had said that being bound in any way reminded her too much of the times she had been held captive for real to find it in any way enjoyable, but Abby found ways around that.

There were quite a few bondage styles that let her enjoy the sight of Ziva's skin flushed under tight ropes without impeding Ziva's freedom of movement and thus her deeply engrained need of having to be able to defend herself and Abby at any given moment. It was a need more deeply anchored in her than any training ever could.

-x-x-x-

On a Friday afternoon Gibbs waylaid them in the elevator and stopped it between levels. He told them in no uncertain terms that he was not happy with either of them and that they should get over it.

Ziva pulled Abby closer and put her arm around the taller woman's waist. She looked Gibbs into the eyes and said, "No, Gibbs. We are in love. I will not give Abby up, under no circumstances."

"I could send you back to Israel,"

"I would not go," Ziva said.

"No, I would go with her, boss-man. I love her with everything that I am."

Gibbs smiled at them, a wide smile almost never seen on his face and hugged them both but before he got too sentimental he backed away from them again, looked at Ziva and said, "If you ever intentionally hurt her, Ziver, you'll find that this world is not big enough for you to hide from me, understood?"

"I would not want it any other way, Gibbs."

"And you," he turned to Abby. "Don't hurt her, or else!"

"Do not threaten her, Gibbs," Ziva said darkly.

He just smiled and reactivated the lift. When they had reached the garage level he said, "And no groping on duty. Got me?"

They both nodded dutifully and walked hand in hand to Abby's car. Ziva was driving and when they had left the Navy Yard Abby said, "That went better than expected. I thought he would make more of a fuss. Not that I'm disappointed, it's just that I had this great speech all prepared, ready to go at a moment's notice, and now I didn't even need it. So, when will we tell the rest of the team?"

"I think Ducky already knows, he has this smile. And Tony noticed that I stopped reading the real estate adds during lunch break. We could invite all of them to dinner and tell them then."

"Then let's do it on Saturday. We could cook together, one of my grand-mother's recipes."

"I would like that, Abigail."

The END

Please read and review! And I don't think that it's crucial for this story but also let me know if you need a translation of the French bits.