Stopping the Lies

A/N: I decided to try writing some Zabby. I'm not quite sure yet in which season this is set, so I might have references to episodes all over the place, but this first chapter is set right after Judgment Day. Oh, the chapters are alternating points of view: Chapter One is in Abby's point of view, Chapter Two is in Ziva's, etc. I hope you all like it!

Disclaimer: I absolutely positively don't own NCIS. Not yet. Boo-hoo for me.

Abby

Director. Director Shepard.

Dead? It's not possible! Not possible. No. Please, please no.

Not dead. Anything but dead.

I stare down into my bourbon—like Director Shepard used to drink—just staring at it until I can make myself say the words out loud.

"Jenny Shepard is dead," I whisper, loud enough for me to hear but too quiet for anyone else to know.

I cannot drink tonight. Drinking leads to thinking and I can't think about her. I pay the bartender and walk out of the bar. I need… I need to talk to somebody.

Gibbs? He'll be drinking bourbon by the bottle and working on his boat. He'll want to be alone.

McGee? He'll be writing away his sorrows, making a nice little chapter in his next book for Jenny.

Tony? He's probably completely wasted. Poor kid thinks it's his fault… but it isn't.

Ducky? Palmer? Both probably reading, or something else quiet.

Ziva. How is Ziva handling it? What is she doing? She also thinks it is her fault. That beautiful, beautiful woman thinks it is her fault the Director is dead. I should be thinking about the Director too, but my mind keeps wandering to Ziva's perfect chocolate-brown eyes.

Stop it, Abby. She is your coworker, and she barely just became your friend. And rule 12, stupid! RULE NUMERO 12! And besides. She's straight. So give it up.

But I nonetheless find myself driving to her apartment.

I step out of my bright red hearse, wipe the tears from my eyes, and snatch Bert from the backseat. Squeezing him tight to my chest, I take comfort in the familiar sound of his fart. At least one thing is still the same. I take the steps to Ziva's apartment two at a time, hoping she won't send me away but at the same time hoping she isn't home.

As soon as I reach her door I regret coming. It's just past eleven, she's probably asleep. Or she just doesn't want me here.

But what if she wants company? Shaking away all negative thoughts, I bring myself to softly knock on her door.

Oh, God, Abby, what are you even doing? She doesn't want to see you! Just go now.

I turn around and start heading back down the hallway with the full intention to leave when Ziva opens the door.

I spin around, startled at the sound and am rendered speechless. Her wild brown hair falls in soft curls down her shoulders. She's dressed in a plain white tee shirt that accents her curves perfectly and pale blue shorts. Her eyes, a perfect shade of brown, are lined with red. She speaks softly, as if knowing that if she spoke louder she'd cry. "Abby?"

I honestly am scared out of words. She's going to ask me to leave any minute now.

She opens the door wider. "Come in, Abby."

At first, I can't make my legs work. I stand there staring blankly, until finally the message gets from my brain to my feet and I walk slowly down the hall through the door.