A/N: I know, I know… you're not supposed to start a new FF when you've got one in progress that you haven't updated in who knows how long. But this idea hit me the other day and I just HAD to do it. Warning- contains rather, erm, dark themes. If you're looking for a happy fic full of sunshines and rainbows and puppies, this isn't the one. Also, contains romantic relation between two consenting adult females, but I doubt it will be explicit at all. As for spoilers, only for the end of Season 2, but I think pretty much everyone knows what happened when Kate stopped being there and Ziva started.

Disclaimer: I own not NCIS, or any characters associated with it, except for Gracie. She's of my own invention. But you know what I mean, so there's no need to sue me, kay?

McGee's POV- Prologueish Type Thing Shanagnag Whatever

It started when Kate died. Naturally there was a period during which nobody acted like themselves, after all, how could they? Kate was a damn good agent, and a friend to so many. No one felt like they would ever get back to normal. Slowly, however, as time went on, you started to see smiles again. Tony could make movie references again, and as his ability to invent McNicknames returned, so did my ability to use geekspeak without sounding monotonous, like a robot whose batteries were running low. Gibbs returned to his original stiff, stoic state. Ducky's story-telling made a grande reentrance, and though we'd never admit it, for a while we had missed the way he would get off-topic and were thrilled that little quirk of his returned. Jenny acted more like a director and less like just a friend of Ziva's.

But during that same period where we all started to return to normal life, Abby was hollow. Sure, her music would be blasting and her pigtails swinging, but she lacked a certain Abbyness. Her laughs were forced; her smiles rarely reached her eyes. But nobody thought to point it out. There had been rumours of a romantic relationship between Abby and Kate. Whether or not they were true, I may never know, but I do know that either way they were close. We all figured Abby was just having a little more trouble moving on due to how close she had been to Kate.

Until one night a few weeks after the funeral. I was woken up just past 3am by my cell phone ringing. Gibbs spoke only three words, but they were the scariest three words I'd ever heard in my life. They made my stomach plummet down to hell, where it caught a fire that spread to my throat.

"Abby. Hospital. Come."

I can't recall how I got to the hospital. I would imagine I dropped my phone right there and sped in my car as fast as I could, but I do remember my legs being ready to give out by the time I got there- had I run all the way? Regardless, I remember spending the rest of the night and the whole next day there in the waiting room. Nobody had told me what happened to her. A thousand possibilities flew through my head, but never once did the actual answer cross my mind.

Abigail Scuito had tried to kill herself.

Abby's POV

I just got out of the psych ward of Bethesda. I've been on suicide watch for the past two months. Two full months, all on my own, with absolutely no contact with the outside world. I don't know if I can even remember how to live around other people. I don't know if I can even remember how to talk. The only thing I do know is that I had better learn, because Gibbs isn't going to let me stay on my own anymore. I don't know who I'll be staying with, but I know I won't ever have any privacy. If I know Gibbs, I bet I'll be living with Gibbs, with Timmy doing his work in my lab to make sure I don't drink my chemicals, and I bet he'll even go so far as to make sure someone accompanies me to the bathroom should I slit my wrists again.

I read a quote once, by a musician called Emilie Autumn, who said "Nothing in my life has ever made me want to commit suicide more than people's reaction to my trying to commit suicide." Truer words were never spoken.

The hours pass in a blur, but the one thing I actually notice is that I am almost correct in my prediction. I am living with Gibbs, and when I return Timmy will be in my lab and Officer David will have to accompany me to the bathroom. However, I'm not allowed to return to work yet. Gibbs has me staying home—or rather, staying at his house—all day while his neighbor, a sweet young girl called Grace, babysits me. I require babysitting by a girl hardly 23 years of age. This blows.

But by far the worst part of my day is when Gibbs makes us Talk. Don't get me wrong- I love talking to Gibbs. I really do. I just don't want to talk about this.

"Abbs," Gibbs says, putting down the sandpaper he was using on his boat, "Come on. You can't just... we need to talk."

I sigh. "Okay," I try to say, but my throat still has cobwebs in it from those two months when I didn't have to say more than two words a day. "Talk."

Gibbs saunters over to me, puts his hands on my shoulders, and stares his icy blue eyes straight into my green. "Why?"

I pointedly look away. Why? How do I answer that question. I want to say, Why? Go spend six months in Antarctica, Gibbs. Wait until you're frozen from the inside out, and you can't possibly move without being completely shattered. Then go running through fire until the ice inside you just breaks apart. Then go get a needle and stitch yourself back together with barbed wire. Do all of that, and have no best friend to cry to, and then don't ask why. Ask why not.

But I can't say that. It's too many words. "I wish I could explain, Gibbs." I squeak out.

He looks as if he might cry. Oh god, did I make Gibbs cry? "You can't leave me, Abbs," he murmurs. "I've lost so many. I can't lost you. If you can't stay for yourself, please, Abbs. Stay for me."

I start to cry. What have I done to him? Gibbs doesn't cry! Gibbs doesn't say please! Gibbs is the strong one! Gibbs can survive anything! I must be an awful, wicked, selfish person to do this to my friends.

I hate myself.

All I can do is hold Gibbs close to me and promise him I won't leave, even though deep down inside I know I still desperately want to.