(A/N: I don't really have much to say, other than to thank the people who've already reviewed this story, and to remind everyone that as always, I own nada. This chapter is mostly from Ziva's point of view, and contains non-explicit femmeslash. Basically, it carries on from Chapter 2, and again, bears no relation to real life events (I feel like I should add that in, because a fair few of my Zabby fanfics are inspired by or based on moments between my girlfriend and myself). So, sí... Here's Chapter 4! I doubt I'll have this finished for Christmas because I'm off on my holibobs for two days tomorrow, but with any luck it'll be done for New Year. Enjoy! Or not. Whatever floats your boat...)

It was one of those freezing, picturesque December nights when everything seemed still and silent, everything coated in a layer of glittering frost beneath the inky, star-strewn sky. The usual sounds of traffic or pedestrians passing by were completely absent, leaving the street eerily quiet. It was hard to believe that anyone was alive, let alone awake, amidst the dark and the silence - but then again, Ziva David had never been the sort of woman to conform to people's expectations.

She had awoken three hours previously at just past 4 a.m, with a throbbing headache that she knew signalled an unpleasant hangover - but for now, in the dim light and silence, it was easy enough to ignore. For a few moments when she had awoken, she had been completely confused to find herself in an unfamiliar bed without Abby's warm, soft body beside her, and to see the red dress she loved crumpled on the floor beside the bed - but then the events of the evening caught up with her, and she had turned her head in shock to look at the sleeping woman beside her, hoping that what she dimly remembered was a dream and nothing more. The sight of Jenny Sheppard lying beside her, looking nothing like the Director of NCIS with her red hair tousled and her pretty features peaceful as she slept on, confirmed the reality of what she remembered. Stunned, she had sunk back into her pillows, fuzzy recollections of the previous evening piecing themselves together in her mind.

-One memory stood out in particular, clamouring for room inside her head. The memory of Jenny's lips on hers under the mistletoe in her office. Suppressing a groan, she closed her eyes and forced herself to remember - to remember everything. And more importantly, to work out why.

The details of the 'Winter Celebration Party' itself were a little vague in Ziva's sleepy, confused, slightly hung-over mind - though the image of Gibbs' round of the impromptu karaoke contest was still vivid. As her mind cleared and the memories began to string themselves together, she remembered Abby nudging her up onto the stage, and seeing the whole team cheering her on - Tony wolf whistling as she stepped onto the 'stage' (Tony and McGee's desks, pushed together with the computers and files stowed safely out of harms way), earning him a glare from Abby...

Oh, God. Abby. She remembered her lover's face, beaming at her as she sang. This was wrong. She shouldn't be here, shouldn't be lying in Jenny's bed. Running through the events of the evening again in her mind yet again, she was just thankful that she and Jenny hadn't had sex - they had done nothing more than kiss, and fall asleep together. Jen had wanted more; she knew that, recalling the way Jen looked at her hungrily as she pushed her back against the bed before pressing her lips to hers again, but when the redheaded woman's hands strayed below her waist Ziva had gently but nonetheless firmly taken hold of them, wordlessly letting Jenny know where her boundaries lay. But really, the whole situation was way beyond the barriers of what should and shouldn't have been allowed to happen. She shouldn't have followed Jenny up to her office when she spotted the other woman watching her in the shadows as top of the stairs leading up to MTAC, shouldn't have let Jenny kiss her, and she shouldn't have gone home with her. It was all wrong. She had never imagined herself being someone who would cheat on a partner - much less, a partner she really loved.

She had called Abby from Jenny's house earlier on, while the latter was in the bathroom. She had had no idea what she was going to say, how she was going to explain away her disappearance - what if Abby had gone back to Ziva's looking for her there? She was used to lying quickly and easily undercover, it was what she was paid for- but deceiving Abby was alien to her, and she hated the very thought of it. She had been frantically trying to think of what to tell Abby; whether to tell the truth or carefully twist it, at least for the time being, when Ducky had answered the phone.

"Director", he had greeted her, uncharacteristic coldness in his voice. Ziva's heart sank. Ducky couldn't have seen them...?
"No. It's Ziva", she'd replied. "Ducky, why do you have Abby's phone? Is she okay? Is she hurt-?"
"She's safe - no thanks to you", he had cut her off. "As for 'okay', I highly doubt it. May I ask why you're calling from Director Sheppard's house?"
She didn't know how to answer. There was a long, pregnant pause before Ducky spoke again.
"She went looking for you, Ziva. She saw the two of you together".
Ziva had felt her blood run cold at that.
"Is... was she... ?" she had whispered, not even knowing what she was trying to say.
"She's been in a real state," Ducky told her bluntly. "She's staying at my house, so I can keep an eye on her. I think it's for the best."
"Can I talk to her? Please?" Ziva had almost begged him.
"No, you can't. It's the middle of the night, Ziva. The poor girl cried herself to sleep tonight, and I'm not about to disturb her. I think I'd be right in saying you're the last person she'd want to talk to".
"...I'm sorry, Ducky" Ziva had managed, fighting back tears.
"You should be" Ducky had responded brusquely. Then; a little more gently, "But it's not me you need to apologise to. Goodnight".
And with that, he had hung up the phone.

Suddenly feeling much more sober, Ziva had sat in silence for a long moment, as tears of began to slide down her olive-skinned cheeks, guilt and sorrow for hurting Abby - all for the sake of a stupid kiss beneath the mistletoe - washing over her, like waves breaking on the sand. When Jenny had emerged from the adjacent room, Ziva had brushed past her; wiping the tears from her cheeks and unable to meet her eyes; and had not unlocked the door and come out of the bathroom until she had composed herself and stopped shaking. Jenny had tried to calm Ziva down, asked what was wrong, tried to hold her, kissed her again and again until she eventually responded - but nowhere near as enthusiastically as before. All Ziva could think of now was what Abby's face might have looked like, and how hurt she must have felt, when she saw Ziva and Jenny in the office earlier, so absorbed in their kiss that they didn't even see her there. Eventually, consumed by guilt, she had rolled slowly on to one side, away from Jenny; as if literally trying to turn her back on the situation. Jenny had called her name softly, but Ziva had kept her eyes closed and feigned sleep. Eventually, the other female had given up and fallen asleep herself, but it took Ziva a long time to stop thinking and relax for long enough to join her in slumber.

And now, here she was, waiting for her lover – if that's what she had to call her - of the night before to wake up so that they could try and make sense of how this had all happened. Because she sure as hell didn't know.

She felt rather than saw Jenny shift beneath the covers beside her. As she turned to watch, the redhead screwed her eyes up as if reluctant to awaken, before arching her back and stretching her limbs, the action accompanied by a sleepy murmur. One of her feet brushed Ziva's leg; and it was this that prompted Jenny to open her eyes. She smiled sleepily when she saw the other woman.
"Good morning…" she said, in a low voice. Ziva managed a small, weak smile.
"Boker tov", she replied. "How are you?"
"Better for waking up and finding you here", Jenny smiled. Ziva couldn't bear hearing this.
"Don't, Jen", she said quietly. Jenny frowned.
"What's the matter?" she asked Ziva.
"She saw".
Jenny's eyes widened as she turned to look at Ziva properly in the gathering light.
"Abby?"
"Yes". Ziva had replied. She sat up, regretting it when the room began to spin a little, and nodded. "I called last night. Ducky took her home…"
"Oh…" was Jenny's only reply. Ziva sighed.

"Jen… what happened tonight… we really need to talk about it…"
"We do?" the redhead asked, looking directly at her. Ziva stared at her incredulously.
"Yes!" she replied, exasperated. Jenny raised one of her finely-plucked eyebrows.
"What is there to talk about? We kissed. That was it."
"I have a girlfriend, Jenny. You know that. You knew that when you kissed me" she responded, growing increasingly frustrated.
"So did you", Jenny replied calmly. "And you kissed me back. You didn't tell me to stop. Please don't try and make it seem like this was entirely my fault".
Ziva couldn't believe how callous Jenny was being. She just didn't seem to realise the guilt that was eating Ziva up inside after the events of the previous evening.
"I didn't mean to hurt her," Ziva said softly. "I never… I wouldn't…" Losing her usually proficient grasp of the language in her culpable confusion, she hung her head, staring at her hands.
"Then why did you kiss me back?" Jenny asked.

Ziva had no real answer. She and Abby were a good couple… far from perfect, she knew, but much further from being a bad couple. They didn't argue often, and when they did it was always over stupid things, usually catalysed by a long day at work getting them both down; but their arguments never lasted more than a day, and they always apologised and made the petty quarrel up to each other. They got on well together, too. Abby was a best friend as well as a girlfriend to Ziva – they could talk to each other easily, joke around with one another, and they genuinely enjoyed spending time together, even doing simple activities such as shopping or washing dishes. The conversation flowed easily between the two of them – and as for the physical side of their relationship… well, Ziva was happy to say that there was nothing whatsoever wrong there. Abby was extremely good in that department. And somehow, Abby made Ziva feel secure, protected, safe in the knowledge that there was no part of her lover ready to turn sour on her. They trusted each other. But now Ziva had betrayed that trust.

Deep down, she had an idea as to how it might have happened. Jenny was just the sort of person Ziva would have been attracted to if she and Abby weren't an item. And sometimes, innocuously, she had to admit to looking the other woman up and down; admiring her petite figure and striking features, and – just sometimes – wondering what could have happened if she and Abby hadn't become an item. Committed as she always swore she was to Abby, she had to admit that the thoughts of what could have happened between her and Jenny were frequently on her mind. Perhaps, with the low lights and the alcohol and adrenaline of the karaoke contest, this was how the fine mess they found themselves in had come about.

And if that was the case, it really was her fault.

Ziva turned round, unwilling to look at Jenny. She swung her legs out of bed and stood, pushing the covers off her; her headache building with every movement. She needed a shower, but right now, all she wanted to do was get away from the other female.

"Where are you going?" she heard Jenny ask. Ziva didn't reply. Tentatively, she tottered forwards; aware of Jenny watching her as, clad only in her underwear, she knelt down slowly to pick up her dress from the previous evening. She felt like crying when she saw the creases left in her beautiful birthday gift from Abby after it had spent the night lying in a heap on the floor of Jenny Sheppard's bedroom. She stepped into it, fastening the garment with trembling fingers at the back of her neck. Finally, she turned to look at Jenny, who was looking at her with an almost puzzled expression that, for some reason, made Ziva furious.

"I'm going home", she announced.
"You don't have to…" Jenny countered silkily.
"Yes, I do."
"Stay with me, Ziva. Please," the other woman wheedled.
"I can't."
"Ziva, come on. You're hung over, and your car's back at your place. Try and think rationally…"
"How can I think rationally when I just threw away the only fulfilling relationship I've ever had?" Ziva shouted.
…Silence. Ziva pressed her lips together after her outburst, taking deep, calming breaths through her nose.
"I'll let myself out" she said finally.
She was careful not to look back at Jenny as she quietly descended the stairs; found her jacket, purse and shoes, unlocked the front door and left without another word.

-But if anybody had walked down Jenny Sheppard's street at around half seven that morning, when the sunlight was beginning to creep over the horizon and illuminate the dark neighbourhood, they might have seen a young woman in a deep red evening dress, leaning against a fence and crying quietly. And, if anyone had been around, perhaps they would have been able to decipher a single sentence through her muted weeping.

"Oh, Abby… How could I do this to you?"

(...And, somehow, it's even longer than the last chapter... People cry a lot in this story, don't they? Anyway - if anyone has any opinions, please review and let me know. The reviews I've received so far are lovely, and they really motivate me to keep writing. Thank you!)