Ziva wasn't one for pouring out her feelings. It wasn't part of her upbringing. Feelings were weaknesses and you never showed your weaknesses. That's not to say she never had feelings, that she never cried, but she made it a point to keep them to herself.
She didn't want to be weak.
Had it not been for Abby's persistent begging Ziva wouldn't have even been there that night, sitting at the table as she and Abby enjoyed beers. Well, Abby was enjoying her beers; Ziva had barely touched her first one. Her father's words rang in her ears: "Alcohol can be dangerous, Ziva," he would say (often while sipping his own glass of Scotch and soda). "It tricks our mind and lets us lower our guard, leaving us weak. You never want to be weak, Ziva."
"I know it's weird for me to be so sad and everything since I didn't really know her that well," Abby said. "I mean, she was the director and all, but she wasn't really a member of the team the way everyone else is. But for her to die that young…" She trailed off before downing her bottle of beer. "Do you think she regretted anything? Do you think she wished she'd gotten married and had kids?"
Ziva shrugged. "I do not know. Jenny…Director Shepherd was quite enigmatic. She did not often talk about her feelings."
"Like you," Abby observed. She hadn't meant it as an insult, just a statement of fact. When she saw Ziva's small wince, though, she immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
"No," she said, "you are correct. I do not…what is the saying…have my heart on my collar?"
"Wear your heart on your sleeve," Abby corrected.
Ziva nodded. "Yes, that."
"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Abby added quickly. "I mean, not everyone's as emotional as I am." She stopped short of continuing. Ziva could see she had more to say but was uncertain of how to proceed. "But…well…I know that you and Director Shepherd knew each other kind of well. Maybe not as well as Gibbs and Ducky knew her, but better than the rest of us did."
"We worked together in Cairo," Ziva said, though she didn't elaborate.
"I heard you saved her life."
"Perhaps I did that time." She took a swig of beer. "But I was not able to this time."
"It wasn't your fault, Ziva."
"We were sent there to protect her and she ended up dead. That is not a good sign of my abilities."
"She made her own choice. She didn't want you and Tony following her."
"It does not matter. We had a job and we did not do it." She took another swig, this one larger than the other one. "I did not trust my instincts enough. That has never happened to me."
"Do you think you'd have been able to talk her out of it, though? I mean, she's the director of NCIS, or she was, at least. She probably would have fired you for disobeying a direct order."
"Yes, but she would still be alive."
"For how long? She was sick, Ziva. I think she made the choice to die that way, to go out with a bang."
Ziva closed her eyes. She would never be able to forget bursting through the door of that dilapidated diner and seeing Jenny lying there in that pool of blood. It was one of the most haunting images she'd ever seen, and for someone who had seen as much as Ziva had that was really saying something.
Then something happened. A tear trickled out, slipping down her cheek. Horrified, Ziva quickly brushed it away, though she knew Abby had seen it. "The lights in this place," she mumbled embarrassedly, "they hurt my eyes."
Abby nodded, letting Ziva pretend that she hadn't just let herself cry, even a little bit. That's what friends did. "I guess we shouldn't get too trashed tonight. I mean, the funeral's tomorrow and all. You want me to settle up and then we can head out?"
"Yes. I just need to go to the bathroom first."
Ziva was relieved to find the bathroom empty. She turned on the faucet and cupped her hand beneath stream of water. She splashed it on her face, ridding her skin of any sign that the rebellious tear had ever been there.
With a couple of paper towels she dabbed her face dry and returned to their table where Abby was waiting. Without a word, Abby stood and engulfed Ziva a large hug.
"Abby?" she asked, obviously taken aback.
"I just could really use a hug right now."
Ziva knew that wasn't true. She knew that Abby felt Ziva was the one who could use a hug, but was pretending that she was the one who needed it so Ziva could continue feeling strong and invulnerable.
She reciprocated the hug, wrapping her arms around Abby's tall frame, and let her friend continue pretending…and she pretended right along with her.