(A/N: Second chapter, because this beautiful song fits. (It's by Aimee Mann.) Ziva's POV this time. I'm somehow not quite satisfied with this: I'd value opinions. Third chapter, maybe? I've got a couple of ideas. If anyone likes it, that is. I apologise now for the OOC-ness and complete fluffy angstiness of it all.
Oh, and by the way, this chapter contains a lot of completely made up description of Abby's apartment – forgive me?)
2. Save Me
When Ziva woke, she had cramp in her neck, shoulders, and legs. This, she realised, was because she was lying on a sofa slightly too short for her, with her head in someone's lap, if she was not very much mistaken. Having had some practice in this area, she did not sit up straight away, as was her instinct; apart from anything else, she had a sneaking suspicion that it would give her a spectacular headache. Instead she lay quite still, as her eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and wisps of memory came floating back.
She remembered Gibbs being unusually lenient, and sending them home; some time later she had turned up at Abby's apartment, bearing wine; there had been… Here she had to stop herself from groaning. There had been kissing, and an argument. And then… she had come back, on some pretext. After that she had no further recollections.
And so, having pieced together the puzzle, she surmised that this must be Abby's flat, Abby's sofa, and therefore also Abby's lap. Immediately the urge to get up became too much to resist, and she raised her head, groaning now not at thoughts but at the very real pain behind her eyes. It wasn't that she objected to being so close to Abby. Not at all. She just couldn't allow herself to. It was too dangerous. Getting to her feet, she padded softly in the direction of the bathroom, trying not to wake her hostess.
You look like
a perfect fit
for a girl in need
of a tourniquet
but can you save me
come on and save me
if you could save me
from the ranks
of the freaks
who suspect
they could never love anyone
Running cold water in the sink, she splashed her face in an effort to wake herself up. It worked, but only made the headache more intense. Straightening up, she looked at herself in the mirror, surprised to see that she did not look as bad as she would have thought. Sure, her hair was a little messy, but it was nothing a hairbrush couldn't fix. She spied the very thing on top of a bathroom cabinet, and, reaching it down, couldn't help but grin at the red and black bat motif that was just so Abby.
As she set about taming her curls, trying not to pull on the ends too much, her mind began to wander, no matter how much she tried to stop it. Their kiss kept replaying in her mind; over and over she watched Abby pull away, felt her hands shoving her backwards as if suddenly disgusted. But that couldn't be it. She'd watched her too carefully, seen the way Abby stared at her when she thought she wasn't looking. And Ziva David was no fool. She knew what that look meant, was well aware that a certain forensic scientist was falling for her in a big way. But she was powerless to stop it, had no way of telling her Don't love me. I will let you down.
Sighing, she put the hairbrush down and doused her face again to freshen up. Maybe you should just get "Danger – keep away" tattooed on your forehead, she thought to herself. It would save everyone a lot of trouble.
The truth was – oh, she knew what the truth was all right. She just wasn't ready to admit it to herself, let alone anyone else. But she also knew that the time would come very soon indeed when she would have to confront it. Just a few more minutes, she promised herself.
Cause I can tell
you know what it's like
the long goodbye
of the hunger strike
but can you save me
come on and save me
if you could save me
from the ranks
of the freaks
who suspect
they could never love anyone
As soon as she left the bathroom, however, it became clear she was not going to get a few more minutes; for Abby was standing against the only other door out of the sitting room, arms folded, eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for some kind of… something. Ziva crossed the room and seated herself on the sofa, preparing herself for whatever Abby might fire at her. But she did not speak immediately, just stood there, as if waiting for Ziva to make the first move. They were locked in this stalemate for what seemed like hours, until Abby burst out,
"Why?"
Trying to keep calm, Ziva asked, "Why what?" in her most level voice.
The Goth did not seem impressed with this answer.
"Why did you come here in the first place, with wine? Were you planning to get me drunk, to seduce me? Why did you let me kiss you? Why did you come back?"
Ziva stared at the floor, struggling to compose her answers into something she could actually say. Because I fucking love you, you idiot, she wanted to scream. Because I can't love you, but I do anyway. Because kissing you is the only way I could show it. But none of these could she say out loud.
Looking now at the wallpaper, she cleared her throat.
"Because… because, Abby, you are my friend. I wanted to spend time with you. I had the wine anyway. I suppose I wanted to celebrate an evening off. "
Again, she coughed. Her mouth seemed suddenly very dry.
"I – kissed you back because…" She paused, choosing her words very carefully. "Because I wanted to, because I…I care for you very deeply." At this she looked up at the other woman briefly, hoping, praying that Abby would understand.
"I think that should answer your last question as well," she said quietly, not wanting to see her friend's expression. Instead she studied the floor again, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
You struck me dumb
like radium
like Peter Pan
or Superman
you will come
to save me
why don't you save me
come on and save me
if you could save me
from the ranks
of the freaks
who suspect
they could never love anyone
She heard soft footsteps crossing the room, and felt the sofa sag as Abby sat down beside her. And then there was an arm around her shoulders, and she was – no, she was not crying, she was most definitely not crying.
When the water from her non-existent tears had long since evaporated, she became aware that Abby was speaking, and turned her head as she tuned into what she was saying.
"The thing is, Ziva… when I kissed you, and you didn't pull back… I thought you were drunk, not knowing what you were doing. And then when I had time to think about it, I realised you'd only had less than a glass of wine, and I know you can hold your alcohol better than that. But… that just made me madder, somehow."
She paused, and tied her loose black hair in two pigtails, as if to help her think.
"I thought you were just using me, getting me drunk so you could have your way with me." She held up a hand to stop Ziva's indignant reply, and looked her straight in the eyes.
"I'm not going to be your plaything, Ziva. I've done that before; once and never again. And you… you're too special to wreck this. Because if you want something – if you are willing to let this go anywhere – I'm in it for the long haul. I don't want to be some kind of fuck buddy. I – I love you. I know you can't say the same, but you said you care. Is that enough?"
Looking into her beautiful eyes, Ziva wanted to kiss her right then and there, but she knew that question needed an answer. "Abigail… will you have dinner with me tomorrow evening?" From the surprise on her face, she knew it was not the answer she was expecting, but she could see that it would do very well. So she kissed her, gently, as if claiming her once and for all.
A small while later they both entered the NCIS building and parted, Abby to go off to her lab, Ziva to try and apologise to Gibbs somehow. And if they were both smiling a little more than usual, well, no-one else noticed. They were both happy enough for now in the fragile peace they had reached.
(A/N: Anyone willing to offer aforementioned opinions? Reviews would be nice.)