A/N: Wow, you guys! 404 reviews, 52 chapters and counting! This is totally awesome! Now, I just found out my summer plans are pretty much up in the air, so I'm going to posting as much as I can, as much as that is, until I just up and vanish. But I think you guys are awesome, and wanted to let you know I've had the most awesome time writing this monstrously long thing. You know, I don't think I ever intended it to be this long, but now I can't see it ever stopping, as long as there are new episodes coming.

And just a sidenote here: I saw this random little posting on the fic page that asked for spoiler warnings to be posted in the summary, so overseas readers wouldn't get blindsided... I agree with the message (though not the posting of the not!fic on the fic page), but I think at this point, if you're not aware that there are spoilers in this story... Well, putting a warning in the summary won't do you any good. I don't something about the whole thing made me laugh, but that could also have something to do with the fact I was in the middle of finals when I read the not!fic.

Anywho, enjoy!


She didn't know why she was there.

She'd just gotten home, but there was only one person she wanted to see. She needed to talk, to relieve the tension that had been pulling at her for days. She hated that feeling, and coupled with the eerie feeling of being a puppet, she felt like she was going to be sick.

But she knocked on the door in front of her, eliciting a cacophony of barking from within. A soft mutter silenced the dog, and the door swung open, revealing a young woman with dark curly hair in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.

"Abby?" It was impossible to mistake the shock in Ziva's voice. "What are you—?"

Surprised brown eyes were met with watery green ones, and a moment later Abby had launched herself into her friend's arms. The agent stiffened at the unexpected assault, but quickly softened, her own arms coming up to wrap around Abby's trembling shoulders.

Abby buried her face in Ziva's shoulder, willing the tears to stay where they were, to not fall. She tried to focus on something else, anything else than her own heartbreak. She heard Ziva mutter something to the dog who was growling nervously at Abby's actions, and it quieted almost instantly. She remembered that she'd forgotten to take off her choker and wrist cuffs.

The door clicked closed behind her, and Abby felt Ziva guide them both a step farther into the apartment. Her back started to hurt from the awkward strain of having to stoop to meet Ziva's shoulder, with their obvious height discrepancies, and she finally pulled back, wiping her eyes with the edge of her shirtsleeve.

"I don't know what to do, Ziva," she said shakily. She'd hoped to explain everything logically, but once she'd started speaking, the dam was broken, and all of her uncertainty came pouring out. "I'm not supposed to know this stuff, I don't want to know this stuff! I've never wished I was wrong before, but now I really really hope I am, because if I'm right then I don't know what to do and I'm scared—"

At this, a protective ferocity shadowed Ziva's features. "Who has frightened you?" she demanded forcefully, her voice dark with intensity. "Did someone threaten you in Mexico?"

"No, no," Abby was quick to clarify. Then, she caught herself. "Well, yes, someone did, but that's not what I meant—"

"Then what has frightened you?" Confusion tinged the agent's voice now. "Abby, I am not sure I understand—"

"Pedro Hernandez."

The name came out before Abby could catch herself, and a moment later she was glad that she had such poor self-control. For in that next moment, there was no gasp of shock, no spark of recognition, but the confusion had left Ziva's features, and the familiar cool mask of interrogation-resistant Mossad claimed her friend's expression. To anyone else, the change would have been imperceptible, but Abby saw it, and knew it for what it was.

"Ziva, please," she said, her desperation evident as her long pale fingers sought her friend's arm, latching on tightly. "I know you know something, if not everything. And I need to know—I need to know how to deal with all of this. I need to know what I should do, because right now all of my options are bad or worse, and I can't handle all this on my own, and no one else knows—"

"Abby." Ziva's voice was suddenly gentle, and warm fingers pried Abby's hand from her arm before clasping it between both of her own in comfort. "Come," she welcomed softly. She moved smoothly over to the couch, guiding Abby along behind her. "Sit."

Once the Goth had obeyed, Ziva perched on the cushion next to her, not breaking her hold on Abby's hand. It remained firmly between her fingers, and Abby was grateful for the calming effect her touch had on her frayed nerves.

"Now," Ziva continued gently. "Take a deep breath, and start over. From the very beginning." She looked intently into Abby's eyes, and the scientist was suddenly overcome by the realization that she was no longer alone in her dilemma. Ziva would help her, and be with her every step of the way. Finally, for the first time in days, the vise that had been squeezing her chest relaxed, and she could breathe again. "Tell me everything."

And so Abby did. She started from when the plane had landed in Mexico, and revealed everything that had happened since. Everything from McGee's stomach troubles, to the flirty Mexican who first thrilled Abby and then turned into someone who left a bad taste in her mouth. She told Ziva about her class, and the cold case that had led them all out into the desert, where she had met the Renosa cartel. And she revealed everything that had come to light after that souvenir had been tossed her way, the all-too-familiar Lapua 308 boat tail, full metal jacket, moly-coated bullet that made her gut clench in realization.

Ziva remained calm throughout, void of any reaction, and Abby knew she would be able to sift out the important parts from the parts she simply rambled on about. She let Abby get through everything she needed to, and even after she had finished, there was a long moment where nothing but silence and the sound of the dog's nails clicking on the hardwood floor could be heard as the agent gathered her thoughts, and processed what had been shared with her.

Finally, Ziva released a smooth, steadying breath.

"You are very lucky, Abby," she said, her voice low in its seriousness. "The Renosa cartel is extremely dangerous, and by all reports you would be dead right now if you had not informed them of your intentions."

"What do you mean? I mean, I know they're dangerous, they had guns and stuff—but how do you know about the cartel?"

"Mossad keeps track of several Central American drug cartels, though the focus mostly remains on their connections rather than their trade. There have been many reports of the Renosa's ruthlessness and fierce territoriality. In the past, it had gotten to the point where even terrorists sought other suppliers in order to distance themselves from the infighting and the pressure from Los Federales."

Abby stared at her. It hadn't really hit her, how close she had come to death that afternoon. And once she'd taken a look at the bullet, any post-traumatic concerns had been obliterated. But now, having it presented to her so bluntly… it was decidedly weird. Because she didn't feel lucky. Actually, she had kind of liked the Renosa lady, in a weird respectful sort of way.

But that wasn't what she had come here for, Abby reminded herself.

"You know about Pedro Hernandez," she stated firmly, pegging Ziva with a hard stare. "It doesn't surprise me that you do, I mean, you're Gibbs'… Well, you've lived with him, and he trusts you, I know he does. But did he tell you if he really—? Do you know why… if…" Abby fell silent then, unable to properly give voice to the apprehension that filled her every time she thought about what the truth might actually reveal.

She wanted to know, but at the same time absolutely did not want to know.

"I do know." Ziva's voice was quiet, soft, but strong and certain at the same time. Abby's heart sank, her suspicions confirmed. Her eyes remained on Ziva's though, willing her to continue, to explain. "Gibbs speaks very little of his family," the agent continued. "But he has said absolutely nothing about their deaths, or anything that happened afterwards."

"Then how did you know about Hernandez?"

There was a moment of hesitation, almost imperceptible, before Ziva spoke again. "I know a great deal about the team, Abby," she told the Goth. "A great deal that I am sure you would prefer I did not know. The dossiers I compiled for Ari were very thorough—I left no stone unturned. I knew about Gibbs' family before I even came to NCIS, and I had read newspaper articles about how they were killed. Pedro Hernandez was a person of interest, and the suspected perpetrator, but there was not enough evidence to arrest, let alone convict. He was untouchable."

She paused, giving Abby time to speak up if she wanted to, but Abby could barely breathe around the lump in her throat. Any thoughts of voicing any of the questions tumbling around in her head were quickly abandoned as a lost cause.

"By that point, I had a fair idea of what kind of man Gibbs was, and I suspected—" She caught herself abruptly, and Abby knew she was reluctant to be as brusque as she usually was, for her sake. After a moment, she tried again. "On a hunch, I looked for Pedro Hernandez. I found his obituary, and I knew."

"So Mossad knows that Gibbs—" Shock and the overwhelming urge to dissolve into tears closed Abby's throat. "They could tell Vance whenever they want, and there'd be nothing—"

"Mossad knows nothing." Ziva's voice was suddenly hard. "My search was for profiling purposes only. Specific details meant less to Ari than an overview of whom he would be interacting with on his mission. There was no need for Ari or anyone else to know what I found."

Relief surged through Abby. At least that ruled out one suspicion she'd had—Mossad was not the one pulling strings. So that left Vance and… well, just Vance really. So far. But at least Mossad was not in the picture at this point. That would be too much for her to handle.

"I don't know what to do," Abby said softly, her shoulders slumping. She stared at her hands, and the tanned fingers covering them. "I don't want to tell anyone what I found, but I can't hide it either. I just can't. Everyone deserves justice, no matter who they are."

Ziva's lips curled ever so slightly. "You are questioning that conviction," she stated bluntly. "You know who that man was, what he did. He was a drug dealer and a murderer, and you are wondering whether that man is really worth the turmoil that is sure to come if you do honor your notion of justice."

"Yeah," Abby whispered. But then she shook her head, sweeping to her feet in increased agitation. "But no. The whole point of everything we do at NCIS is to show that individuals do not have the right to decide who lives and who dies. There's a system, and it's our job as citizens to honor that system. We live by laws, and if someone breaks those laws, then they have to be subject to the punishment. No exceptions."

"If you were so sure of that, Abby, you would not have come here."

Abby froze, then turned on Ziva, ready to snap at her for her assumptions. But one look at the quiet understanding in her friend's expression drained the fight from her. She sighed defeatedly, and nervously bit her lip.

"You're right. I don't know what to do. The scientist in me is telling me that I am honor-bound to report what I found. That I have a responsibility to tell the truth. But the other part of me, the part of me that keeps hearing Gibbs say that he has my back no matter what, the Gibblet part of me… It knows that this is all wrong. I shouldn't even be thinking about turning Gibbs in, even if he did commit a crime."

"Forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds," Ziva said softly, "but I do not think that is what is bothering you. At least, it is not the part that has driven you to come to me."

"What do you mean?"

Ziva hesitated, suddenly uncertain. But when she spoke her voice was firm, confident.

"You are mad at Gibbs, for putting you in this position. You feel betrayed, because you feel he did not trust you enough to tell you about this earlier."

"That's crazy," Abby scoffed defensively. "He didn't even tell you, why would he have told me?"

"He did not have to tell me," Ziva corrected. "I already knew, and even though he might not have known for sure, he suspected that I knew what he had done to avenge his family. And you have known him for much longer than I have. You have a bond that no one else on the team shares. You trust him implicitly, and you're angry that he has shattered the illusion you have of him."

"What illusion?"

"That he is a champion for justice. That he is a hero who follows the spirit of the law, even if he does bend them for the sake of justice. That he does not make mistakes, or could be anything other than perfect." Ziva rose slightly, just enough to perch on the armrest.

She could now look at Abby without having to crane her neck up. Her hands folded calmly on her lap, and an annoyingly knowing gaze regarded Abby where she remained frozen. Abby wanted to tell her to stop, that she didn't know anything, but found herself unable to.

"You are angry that you can no longer trust so implicitly. You are angry that he has taken that from you."

Dead silence fell over them. After a moment, Abby's mouth began working, trying to fire off a protest that would tell Ziva just how wrong she was. Only… she wasn't. She was spot on. Everything she'd said, everything Abby had spent the past three days trying to deny—it was all true. And now, she had nothing left to hide behind.

But instead of admitting that, Abby began to pace again.

"What am I supposed to do?" she pleaded, only half to herself. "What should I do?"

"That is not something I can tell you, Abby," came the diplomatic reply. "That is something you must decide for yourself."

"Well, myself is not really functioning right now," Abby snapped. "Myself is barely able to process what's happening, let alone make any freaking decisions!"

Her outburst came swift and sure, but as quickly as it had come, guilt followed in its wake. She turned back to Ziva apologetically, but instead of the nervous hurt Abby expected to see, the agent was sporting an expectant grin that was coupled with an understanding grin.

"I hate it when you look at me like that," Abby muttered. "You should be freaking out. Why aren't you freaking out? You're way too calm. It's creepy."

"I have accepted this part of Gibbs' nature. It has been difficult to make sense of, at times, especially now that I have attempted to mold myself to American standards. But I have long known that Gibbs followed his own code. You have known it as well."

"You don't know—"

"Yes, I do, Abby," Ziva quickly interrupted. "Whatever you want to believe about him, you cannot deny that Gibbs has never made any qualms about his loyalties, or what he is willing to do for his loyalties. He has many layers, many defenses, but he has absolutely no pretense about him. You had to have known that he would not let his family's killer go free."

"But—"

"No buts, Abby. You cannot deny it. You've seen it yourself. With Kate."

Instinctive hurt and shock bubbled to the surface, and before she could censor herself, Abby reacted.

"Don't you dare bring her into this—"

"I must," came the unfazed response. "I was there for the aftermath, Abby. I saw the rage that burned in Gibbs' eyes as he searched for my brother. You might not want to acknowledge it, but I know that part of you realized that Gibbs had absolutely no intention of bringing Ari in alive. Ari killed Kate, and Gibbs was going to kill Ari in return."

"Gibbs did kill Ari," Abby pointed out. Eyebrows quirked up in surprise, but Abby didn't notice.

"Yes," Ziva corrected softly. "Gibbs killed Ari. And that is my point. That is Gibbs' sense of justice. That is his code. You know that he would do the same for any one of us. And I know that he would go to the same lengths to make sure we do not meet the same fate as Agent Todd."

"He's got our backs," Abby whispered.

"Yes," came the affirmation. "He does. And that gives me more comfort than it does concern."

"But… it's not right," Abby finished lamely. She was running out of excuses, but was no closer to knowing what to do.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I don't follow the warrior code of honor that you guys do. I'm a scientist, I deal with facts, and I operate by a certain set of rules. I can't disregard them just because I want to."

"This isn't about a warrior code of honor, Abigail."

The use of her given name made Abby pause. She couldn't remember a single time where Ziva had used her full name since being so harshly corrected during her first case at NCIS. Abby had fairly ripped her a new one, and Ziva had been careful to never use it again. But now her voice was stern, and Abby knew that Ziva wanted her to listen, and to comprehend.

"It is about knowing that I will never again have to worry about dying at the hands of some unidentified assailant. It is about knowing that even if harm did come to me, Gibbs would hunt down my assailant and make him pay for it, giving those left behind some sort of closure."

Ziva stood, her shoulders square and confident as she strode to where Abby stared at her. Tan arms folded matter-of-factly over her chest, and Ziva's brown eyes rooted the scientist to the spot. When she spoke, Ziva's voice was strong, filled with gratitude and emotions that Abby could hear but not identify.

"Gibbs has already proven that he would go to the ends of the earth to ensure that I would not die a nameless, faceless death in the desert. That my killer would not go unpunished. That means more to me than any law your government ever adopted. And you helped him accomplish his mission last summer, Abby, even after you discovered that I had kept things from NCIS."

"But this is different," Abby countered. "This is bigger, this is…" She began to pace once more. "I'm not like you guys, Ziva. I don't have that tough, rules-be-damned abandon. If this was just him and me, that would be one thing. But this involves our jobs, our cases, two different governments, ruthless drug cartels… Whatever I choose, there's gonna be miles of repercussions, more than we can even predict right now."

Suddenly, she stopped her pacing. She turned back to where Ziva was waiting patiently.

"What would you do?"

For some reason, Ziva seemed taken aback by the question, as if surprised that Abby would care about what she would do if faced with the same dilemma. Well, in a way, she was being presented with the same dilemma—this was going to affect the whole team before it was over.

"I do not think that is the question you should be asking me," Ziva responded carefully.

Abby stared at her. "Why not?"

"Because we are not the same, Abby. You have not shared the life I've lived, nor I yours. I am more guttural, like Gibbs, and you are more… cerebral. I operate on instinct and reflex, but you allow logic and rationality to order your life. What I would do is not necessarily what you would do."

Abby looked at her for a long moment after she had finished. "Wow," she said, stunned. "That was… really insightful, Ziva." She peered at her friend. "And weird. Are you feeling okay?" Ziva arched a brow at her, and Abby instantly cowed. "You've really noticed all that?"

"I have been your friend for several years now, Abby. I would hope that I've realized that much about you," she retorted with a grin. "Besides, I told you. My dossiers on all of you were very thorough. I know much more about you than that."

Abby's eyes widened, but she latched onto the change of subject like it was a life preserver. "What? How much more?" She fixed Ziva with a part-stern, part-horrified stare. "You even investigated me?"

"Mmhmm. I know almost everything." Ziva was teasing now, Abby could tell, and she responded with a smirk of her own.

"Even the AnimeUSA of '98?" she asked. Ziva gave a smug, knowing grin, eliciting a shocked squawk from Abby. "You do know about that?"

"Better," Ziva returned smugly. "I have pictures."

"What?"

"What was that thing you were wearing anyway?"

"Not relevant," Abby declared, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "And I'm not going to ask how you got pictures of that." She shook her head, a brief grin gracing her lips for a moment. But then her features fell once more as the worry that had been plaguing her returned full-force.

Ziva must have seen the change, but she remained silent, waiting for Abby to make the first move. It gave Abby the chance to gather her thoughts, and decide her next course of action. Ziva's presence beside her was calming, and she was able to steady herself internally before she looked at her friend once more.

"If you know me so well," she started carefully, "then what would you do, if you were me?"

Ziva stared at her blankly for a moment, before her head tilted pensively as she considered the question. Abby thought she might only shrug, or give some kind of zen response that would leave her back at square one, but to her surprise, the answer that came was neither inconclusive nor impartial.

"Well," Ziva said slowly. "You are a scientist. You said so yourself." She tilted her head inquisitively. "What do you do when the math does not add down?"

Abby blinked. "What?"

"When you are working on something, and something is hinky, what do you do?"

"I tell Gibbs."

"But if what you are working on is not for NCIS, but for a symposium, and your preparation reveals something that does not work into your existing thesis, what do you do?"

"I find out what that something is, where it came from, why I didn't see it coming…" She rattled off the list numbly, still not understanding what Ziva was getting at.

"And would you do that before or after presenting your research at the symposium?"

"Before, obviously. I'd be laughed off the stage if I left something so glaringly out of whack in my research without looking into it."

"Exactly," Ziva stated firmly. "And that is what you should do."

"What is?"

Ziva sighed. "Abby, you said it yourself. Something is not adding up. You had a hinky feeling."

"Someone's pulling my—oh." Comprehension dawned. "Oh. Right. Duh. I totally should have seen that…"

"That is what I would, if I were you. Gather all the facts, study all the evidence, and get the full picture before reporting anything to anyone." Ziva grinned at Abby, who was looking sheepishly at her. "And this is what you came here for. For clarity, yes?"

"Of course," Abby returned enthusiastically. The wheels in her head started up again, and she mentally began to go through what she'd found so far, even as she began to ramble once more. "God, I've been so stupid! Here I am, worrying about all this Gibbs business—and you're right, I guess I always did know he was capable of doing… well, you know— well, anyway… when I totally should have been focusing on the why! The why now, why Gibbs, why me? Who knows us well enough to get me down to Mexico to look at cold cases, and to give me that specific case, of all the cold cases Mexico must have—"

The rambling broke off suddenly, and then in the next moment pale arms were pulling Ziva close, enveloping her in a fierce embrace. She held it until Ziva began to choke for air, and then loosened her grip ever so slightly, refusing to pull away.

"Thank you so much, Ziva," she whispered. "Thank you for everything. There's no one else I could have gone to, even if I'd wanted to go to someone else, and I'm really, really lucky you're my friend. Or, you know, that I'm your friend. I'm not really sure how that works—"

"Abby…"

"Right, not important." Abby pulled back, taking a moment to look her in the eye. "You know what I mean."

"Indeed," Ziva affirmed. Her voice softened then. "And you know that you are welcome here whenever you need clarity in the future, yes?"

"Now I do," Abby intoned brightly. The worry was still there, but now she could at least put it on the backburner, and focus her efforts and attention on figuring out who wanted Gibbs in trouble. "And, I might be taking you up on that soon. You know, if chasing down the math reveals something horrible."

"Chasing down the math?" Ziva's brow furrowed in confusion. "I am not familiar—"

"Earlier, you asked about when the math didn't add up—well, you said 'add down', but you meant 'add up'…"

"Ah, yes. I understand. Noted."

"Ziva, I need to go. Now that I know what I can do to help Gibbs, I have to go do it. I mean, I know I won't be able to solve it one night, but right now I have to go do something helpful, because the other stuff I've been doing recently has only been terrible and awful—"

"I understand," Ziva interrupted with a grin. "Do not linger on my account."

Abby gave her a grateful smile, and one more quick hug before moving towards the door. Ziva watched her go, but when Abby's hand touched the doorknob to let herself out, she froze. Slowly, she turned back around to look at her friend, her green eyes serious.

"Ziva," she said slowly, tentatively, "what would you do?"

Silence reigned for several long moments, before Ziva even seemed to register the question.

"I mean, it's obvious what Gibbs would do," Abby continued, "and you know what I would do, but… what would you do?"

It seemed like an eternity before Ziva decided to answer, but Abby waited patiently. And when she finally spoke, her lips curved into a pleasant smile that clashed with gleaming eyes that were hard with conviction.

"Whatever it takes."

The intensity of her response surprised Abby, but a voice inside her told her that she should have expected it. Warrior code of honor, and all that.

"Abby."

The utterance of her name broke through Abby's thoughts, and she looked up to see Ziva regarding her with a warm gaze. And Abby realized that she had never really noticed how comforting Ziva could be… how maternal even, in a big sister kind of way. It made Abby feel safe, much to her surprise.

"You keep saying that you can't do this, that you could never do that," Ziva continued, once she was certain she had the Goth's attention. "You point out all the things that set you apart from Gibbs and myself, but you neglect to mention your own convictions."

"What do you mean?"

"Three words," Ziva said bluntly. "No forensic evidence." Her lips curled into a smirk when she saw Abby's obvious surprise. "That is what you are always threatening McGee with, yes?"

"Well, yeah," Abby spluttered, "but…"

"You claim you are not capable of many things, Abigail Sciuto. But I think, when the time comes to make a stand… that will be the moment you realize just exactly how much you are capable of doing."