Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind words. This is just something I wanted to get out of my system before the new season begins and before my school year starts. I guess I had no idea I was THAT upset about Cote de Pablo leaving until I started to write this. Baaaaaaaah! Let's just get it out there—this is gratuitous angst. Pure and simple.

A grown woman should not be so caught up in a television show.

Big warning—Although this chapter is about friendship, the next is definitely a Tiva story, so if Tiva ain't yer thang, walk away now.

Don't own them. Wouldn't mind a share or two, if only on syndication rights, but other than that…

Part II

Ziva could feel the beat almost before she could hear it. An insistent boom, boom, boom, something in the substrata of sound. She placed her hand on the silver door, and it vibrated.

And there she was, all swinging ponytails and white lab coat. A million dollars worth of equipment at her fingertips, and all of it safe. This is how Ziva would always remember Abby, and she took comfort in the fact that soon enough, this is the world that Abby would return to. The fact was that many tragedies had come and gone over the years, and Abby had survived them all. Some took longer for her to recover from, but she had recovered, and she would recover from this, Ziva felt sure.

Still, what she wouldn't give to remain outside the door, silently witnessing the grace and brilliance of her friend's work. What she wouldn't give to be able to walk away.

But, when she turned to gather evidence from her table, Abby found Ziva in the window, and she smiled and beckoned her in. Ziva took a deep breath and pushed open the door. A wall of sound cascaded over her.

Accessing the remote to turn down the music, Abby began to yell over the music, "This is my new favorite band! Cemetary Girlz! We'll have to," she yelled, just as the music leveled off to a dull roar, "go see them when they come to town."

Ziva nodded, but knew it was a plan that would more than likely not come to pass. "Abby, do you have a minute?"

Abby was about to give her perfunctory, cheery answer, but something in Ziva's eyes told her that this would not be a cheery conversation. Something in the tightness of her features, the way she rigidly held her shoulders, the slight shake in her hands, screamed danger to Abby. "Who's dead?"

Ziva blinked. "What? No, no one is dead."

"Okay, then hurt? Is it Gibbs? Tim? It's Ducky, isn't it?"

"No, no," Ziva said, reaching out for Abby, coming short of actually grasping hold her of her hand. "They are all fine."

Abby scanned Ziva's face. Stepped back. Squinted, and searched those dark eyes some more. "Something's wrong."

Ziva sighed, knowing that the postponement of such news would not lessen the bite. "Nothing is…wrong, Abby. It's just…I have decided to leave." She had hoped having said the words three times in the last hour would have taken the rawness from them. She was wrong, and when her nose began to sting and her throat began to tighten, she turned away. She shook her head, perhaps to mask the shaking in her body, perhaps to give her mind the time to find the next words.

"What do you mean you're leaving? For the day? That's what you mean, right, for the day," Abby said, placing words in Ziva's mouth. "Tell me that's what you mean!"

Ziva flinched, and something primal in her took over. She glared at Abby, ready to bark back, when she realized this was not the time. Ziva smoothed the skin across her burning forehead, took a deep breath, and centered herself. "Abby, please—"

"No! I'm sick of this!" Abby cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Just when everything's back to normal, just when I think I can breathe again, something like this always happens!"

"Abby," Ziva tried, hoping if she kept her voice even, it would ameliorate Abby's reaction, "if you would—"

"What? If I would what?!" Abby demanded, gesticulating a little too wildly for Ziva's comfort. "Calm down? Tell you it's okay that you're about to kill me, 'cause that's what you're gonna do, aren't you? Kill me?"

"I have no plans to kill you, Abby," Ziva said. "Not today."

Abby snatched the remote off the lab table, maxed out the volume on her music, and spun away from Ziva. Stunned, hurt that Abby, of all people, would not even listen to what she needed to say, Ziva made a clumsy attempt to leave the room.

"Stay right there!" Abby roared, pointing at Ziva, refusing to face her. And Ziva did as she was told. The music beat down on her, assaulted not just her ears but her viscera. For a full minute, then two, the women stood apart, while anger and sadness teeter-tottered in both their hearts. Just as Ziva was about to demand the music be turned down, Abby walked to her iPod and pressed stop. She did not turn to face Ziva, but when she spoke again, her voice was calm, tinged with sorrow. "Just…just tell me this: Are you leaving or going?"

Rifling through her memory for the exact meaning of the two words, Ziva stood nonplussed. "I am not…sure…what…"

"Leaving is bad; going is good," Abby assisted. And when she turned, the message in her eyes was one of mournful acceptance. "Leaving means there's nothing here for you. Going means there's something out there, something wonderful that's waiting for you. Ziva," she said, approaching her shaken friend, grasping hold of her hand, "are you leaving, or going?"

Undone once again, Ziva scrubbed away a rogue tear, and said, "I do not know. Both, I suppose. Maybe both. I would like to think I am going, but I do not know."

Abby frowned, more upset by her friend's deep emptiness, rather than her own loss. "You know we're all here for you, and you are part of us, right?"

No words would come, so Ziva simply nodded. Ran a hand under her nose. Who knew Abby would be the rock, she thought. But, of course she always had been.

"Okay, then," Abby whispered, and when she tried to smile, a tear crested and trailed across her cheek. "So, it's settled. You're going. To some amazing adventure."

Ziva nodded again, and sniffed. "Yes, I am going."

"But not far, right?" Abby asked, grabbing Ziva's other hand, which Ziva willingly gave.

Ziva pulsed the connection of their conjoined hands, and said, "No, not far."

"Will I be able to get to you within a couple hours if you need me?" Abby asked, prompting the answer she sought with the bobbing of her head.

Ziva smiled, and felt yet again the stranglehold on her voice. Her chin quivered, and when she could speak, her voice was something like a cry, "Yes. Only a few hours."

"Okay," Abby said, dabbing Ziva's tears with a silk hanky she had produced from her inner pocket, "so no oceans are involved, and no continents."

Ziva giggled, a thing she thought she might never do again, and said, "Same ocean, and same continent. Miami."

Abby smiled, and tucked the hanky in Ziva's hand. "That's not so far."

"No, not so far." Ziva held the silk in her fist, and pressed it to her heart. "And you will come visit me, yes?"

It was Abby's turn to lose her voice, and so she nodded, and pulled Ziva into a hug. Ziva crushed shut her eyes, and pressed close to Abby. No one could have ever replaced Tali, nor had Ziva ever sought out a replacement. But Abby was as close to a sister as she had ever known, and so she held her, and whispered her love to her, and her thanks.

When they did end their embrace, Abby smoothed back Ziva's hair, and smiled. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Ziva."

Ziva smiled too, an exact duplicate of Abby's sorrow-filled smile. "I will miss you, too, my friend."

"We'll Facetime, and talk on the phone," Abby told her, nodding. "It'll be like you never left."

"That is right," Ziva agreed, fully aware of the rationalization they were both relying on. She wiped away her tears, and smiled again. Took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"But, you have to promise me," Abby said, "that if you ever, I mean ever, need me, or any of us, you'll pick up that phone."

Ziva understood the context. Abby's mandate spoke of familial rights, and of the need for best friends, something still so new in Ziva's life. The acknowledgment that she loved having people to call, warmed Ziva, and she said, "I will. And you will call me. Because I will want to hear it all."

"Absolutely all of it," Abby said, grinning. "Who knows? Maybe the Cemetary Girlz will have a gig down in Florida. I'd totally come down for that."

"I shall keep my ears open," Ziva said. "It should not be hard to hear them."

They laughed, and smiled, and sighed. Ziva nodded and squeezed Abby's hand. Abby pointed to her own heart. Ziva turned to leave, tired yet at peace.

Just as she stepped across the threshold of the lab door, Ziva heard the music begin again. She glanced over her shoulder to find Abby at her computer, her hands at either side of the keyboard. It was a good show, Ziva thought, but the bend of Abby's head broadcast her truer emotions.

The silver door slid shut, and Ziva whispered, "Goodbye."