AN: Still don't own NCIS. Damn it all.

I was originally planning for this to be just a oneshot, but I got so many follows that I kind of felt bad for not planning to continue. So I decided to write another chapter. n_n

This focuses more on Ziva and Abby than Ziva and Gibbs, so I apologize if you were looking for more of that, but Gibbs will make an appearance later on.

This is the first time Ziva can remember that the entire team is crashed in one place. Except for McGee; the Elf Lord was being kept overnight in the hospital with a concussion. That, of course, meant Abby was nearly hysterical on top of the news that Ducky had suffered a heart attack. Ziva couldn't quite keep a cold shiver of dread from crawling down her spine as she thought of how lucky the old medical examiner was to be alive. They were all lucky, really.

Gibbs is downstairs in his basement, to nobody's surprise, meaning that Abby is currently sleeping in his bed. After their team leader told them there was one extra bedroom in the back of the house, Ziva offered to take the couch but was shouted down by Tony. Normally Ziva would have said to hell with it and slept on the sofa whether Tony liked it or not, but there had been something almost painful about the way her partner insisted and so she gave up without much of a fight. It was nothing short of miraculous that both of them escaped so intact after being trapped in the elevator when the bomb blew; Tony had suffered a nasty shrapnel wound on one arm and Ziva's ribs were extremely tender, but it could have been—should have been—so much worse.

Her door creaks slightly, and she is instantly on alert, revolver in her hand and barrel aimed toward the noise. "Who's there?" she growls, alarm and leftover shock winding her voice to a slightly higher pitch than it normally is.

"Ziva?" Abby's voice quavers, and the ex-assassin sighs, unfolding her fingers from the gun butt and slipping it back underneath her pillow.

"Come in, Abby," she says quietly, somehow very unsurprised that the Goth girl has approached her. "You couldn't sleep either." It wasn't a question.

Her friend steps into the room, black hair loose around her shoulders as she clutches Burt to her chest. Clad only in an oversized T-shirt, Abby is shivering slightly, making her way over to Ziva's bed and seating herself on the edge. She bites her lip, looking for all the world like a frightened child, and Ziva finds, to her slight surprise, that she can't resist setting a hand on the other woman's. "It's all right, Abby," she soothes. "We're all alive." We're all fine, she wants to say, but it would be a lie if she did. Ducky may never be able to walk without assistance again and there is a chance, slim but there, that McGee may be injured worse than they expected. Not to mention the emotional toll of the bomb, and then there was the fact that the office—their home, in a way—was gone…

Stop that. Ziva firmly gives her head an abrupt shake. Thinking that way wouldn't help anything, especially not Abby. She looks up in time to see the forensic scientist burying her face into Burt and hears her mumble something unintelligible. "Abby, I can't hear you."

Abby turns her head so that her mouth is free. "But you—all of us—we could be dead….a-and you and Tony….you should be…." A sob shakes her shoulders. "And then Ducky had a heart attack, oh my God, and McGee; he could have a cranial hemorrhage or he could get amnesia or brain damage or—"

"Enough!" Ziva snaps, harsher than she meant to, and Abby falls silent with another wrenching sob. Ziva is reminded of the time Lt. Corporal Worth attacked them in the rehab facility and Abby went crazy upon seeing the bruise on Ziva's forehead and eye. The Israeli forces herself to soften, gingerly rubbing her thumb over Abby's knuckles. "You can't think that way, Abby. It will drive you crazy—believe me, I know. McGee is being kept because it's safer that way, and he will most likely be let go tomorrow. Ducky…" And here her voice catches, because the man has been a combination of father and uncle to her and she fears for him almost as much as she once did for Gibbs after the explosion. "Ducky is alive. He may be crippled, but Abby, he is alive." Something new occurs to her then, something so ugly her breath slips out of her in a painful whoosh: Ducky may not be able to go back to work. Many people retire, of course; she knows this, but he loves his job so much and if he can't go back, can't be there every day—be with them…!

Abby leans forward and wraps Ziva in her arms, forehead pressed against the shorter woman's shoulder. "I know," she says softly, voice shaking, and Ziva is aware she has thought of this too. Suddenly needing the contact, Ziva brings her own arms around and hugs Abby hard, jaw clenched in an effort to control the sudden wetness in her eyes. It doesn't work.

"Ziva?" Abby's voice breaks the silence a lifetime later. "I know after Director Shepard died I told you guys things I liked about you, but…it doesn't seem enough now, you know?"

Ziva feels as though someone has punched her in the gut at the mention of Jenny, and it takes her a moment to breathe again. "I don't follow."

"Well, I…I feel like I should tell you more meaningful things. Tell you that I'm sorry, for one thing. I'm sorry I hated you at first, because Kate wasn't your fault—at all. I was being stupid. And I'm glad we're friends now because you're a great person, all tough and kick-ass—but you're not emotionless either, and I'm sorry for that too, by the way, because that's an awful thing to say to someone, especially a good friend, and I'm really glad you trust us now…"

"Abby." Ziva doesn't snap this time, but the word is just forceful enough to cause Abby to quit talking, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Sorry. I kind of get going sometimes…" Abby somewhat guiltily flicks her eyes up to Ziva's, and the Israeli can't stifle a smile.

"No, it was…nice. Thank you. I…I'm glad we are friends as well." There is more she wants to say, a lot more, but emotional confessions like this really aren't her thing, and already her throat is starting to close. So Ziva simply settles for giving Abby a kiss on the forehead, remembering how she had once done it for Tali eons ago. Abby beams and snuggles closer; she gets the message. "Abby?"

"Yup?"

"…..would you like to stay here the rest of the night?"

Ziva has slept with many men and more than a few women, but this is the first time she truly understands why people enjoy "snuggling" so much. It'll be worth whatever Tony says in the morning, because for the first time since Somalia she really, truly feels safe.

It's…nice.