One Day At A Time
Warnings: Non-explicit femslash, self-harming (may be triggering), very OOC.
Discalimer: I don't own anything from NCIS.
Enjoy?
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Ziva crouched underneath the desk, praying that everyone else had gone home. She'd seen McGee and Tony leave, assumed Abby had already gone home, knew Ducky had and was just waiting for Gibbs to make his exit. She knew he would be the last to leave.
She sensed movement and kept very still, holding her breath. That was Gibbs. She could tell by the quiet breathing, the faint rustle of trousers as he moved, the padding of his footsteps. She listened intently as he walked away, counted the seconds as she heard him leave. She was on her own.
She didn't really know why she was doing it. She thought it was because here at work, ironic as it was, she felt safe. Maybe she just didn't want to go home tonight, or ever. But one day at a time. Tonight she would be staying here.
What she would say in the morning – well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it. But now there were things to do. Ziva David had a whole lot of angst bottled up inside her and here was somewhere she could let it out.
She crawled out from under the desk, stood up, and stretched, though she didn't really register the ache in her muscles. Crossing the floor softly to an unobtrusive corner, she slid her hand into her pocket, fingering the sharp blade that lay there. Drawing it out, she held it up, watching it flash as it caught the light. It almost made her laugh, that something so pretty could be so dangerous.
She slid to the floor, back to the wall, and pulled up her sleeve, staring at the pale flesh criss-crossed with a network of scars, some almost invisible, others glaringly obvious. She moved further up and found a patch of skin as yet untouched. But not any more, she thought, drawing the blade slowly across her arm, watching fascinated as the blooded seeped out in tiny droplets. What a pretty colour it was.
But it wasn't any good. She couldn't feel anything. The anger rose in her throat and she slashed at her skin again and again, harder and harder until the blood ran everywhere and she was exhausted. She let the blade fall to the floor and dropped her arm down, covering it again, not caring that the blood quickly soaked through the thin fabric. How useful winter was for hiding things.
And then it hit her. What the hell did she think she was doing? Cutting yourself wasn't something that normal adults should be doing. It wasn't something that anyone should be doing, but… she should have left it behind in her teenage years. She thought she had. And now she'd failed, and had no idea what she was going to do about it.
She turned herself to face the wall, huddled into the corner. Her body began to shake as the sobs ran through her, loud and angry. And it wasn't pretty, or proper, or any kind of picturesque.
Somebody help me, she silently prayed.
And then she felt strong arms around her waist, pulling her up slowly. She didn't have the strength to fight, but when she was on her feet, she whipped around to see who had found her.
"Abby? What – I mean – I thought you'd – "
All these broken phrases ran through her mind, but she didn't speak. She leant forwards onto Abby, burying her head in the other girl's shoulder and crying until there were no more tears. Then, when the sobbing gradually subsided, she felt Abby gradually ease her off and hold her at arm's length.
"Let me see, Ziva." Soft and gentle, but firm, with no room for disobeying. Though it gave her chills to think about what she was doing, Ziva slowly rolled up her sleeve, wincing as the fabric tore away the scabs that had already begun to form. She looked at the floor, not wanting to see Abby's face. She would be shocked, she knew. But all she said was, "We need to get you cleaned up." And if there was a whispered "Oh, Ziva" and a sharp intake of breath, Ziva pretended not to hear it.
Slowly, clutching the other girl's hand like a lifeline, she followed her to the toilets, where Abby dabbed carefully at the mess she'd made of her arm. It stung like hell and seemed to take forever, but at last Abby was drying her arm with a paper towel and leading her to a lab, where she rummaged in a large box. "Here we are!" she exclaimed at last. She walked over with a wrap around bandage.
"Hold still." That same tone again. She wrapped the bandage not too tightly around the cuts, securing it with a safety pin.
"Now you need to rest. Come on."
Abby led her to a small room she had never seen before, which contained a camp bed and a motley assortment of (mainly black) clothes in a heap. "Used to be a storeroom," Abby explained. "I cleared it out. Sometimes I need to stay over if I'm working late. Got anything else you can wear?" she asked, gesturing at Ziva's working gear. She shook her head.
Abby rummaged in the pile and produced a large black T-shirt bearing a slogan (the name of some band, Ziva assumed) that she was far too tired to read. "Have this. Not guaranteed clean, though." Ziva turned her back while she changed, and when she turned around, Abby was also wearing a similar T-shirt.
Ziva sank down onto the bed and lay on her side, taking up as little room as possible. Abby slid in behind her. "Do you mind? Only the floor's seriously uncomfortable."
Taking her silence for a yes, she tentatively put her arms around Ziva's waist.
"Shh… just try to sleep now. We'll talk in the morning," she whispered, placing a feather-light kiss on Ziva's neck.
Ziva didn't know when she had ever felt so safe. She laughed to herself, realising the oddity of their positions. If you'd asked a stranger which one was a cutter, they would go for Abby every time. But despite the black clothes, pale skin and blood-red lipstick, Abby was one of the happiest people she knew.
That made her think for a second. Would Abby understand? But Abby's arms holding her close calmed her, and she snuggled back against her. Maybe she wouldn't need to understand, not yet. Maybe she could just listen, and it would be okay.
But they would see. For now, they were both preparing to take everything one step at a time.
(Um… what did anyone think?)