Stopping the Lies
A/N: I know, it's been forever since I posted the first chapter. I had absolutely no idea what to do next and, well, Ziva is a hard character for me to write. She usually ends up very OOC. But I think I'm getting better at it. In other news, the chapter contains spoilers for Judgment Day, so if you haven't seen it… you probably already know what happens if you're reading fanfic or have seen more recent episodes. Feel free to read on even if you haven't. But it's probably better that you don't. So… enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS, the show would suck, probably. Because it would turn into a huge romantic dispute, because I like a lot of different pairings. And since the show is amazing, you all know that I in fact do not own NCIS. Don't sue me, por favor.
It is my fault Jenny is dead. I might as well have loaded my gun and fired those bullets myself. It does not matter what they say. I was her protection. I was supposed to be watching after Jenny and I failed her. And she is dead because of me.
I desperately try to hold myself together—that is the phrase, correct?—until I am safe and sound in my own apartment. No, Ziva! I silently yell at myself. Just because others cannot see you does not mean you can cry. Crying is a weakness. Are you going to be weak?
My time in America has made me like this. In Israeli Mossad, I had rules not unlike the Gibbs rules. Of course, there were less of them.
Rule One: Trust no one.
Rule Two: Do not get attached to anyone.
Rule Three: Do not show unnecessary emotion.
All three of these rules were meant to keep me safe. If you did not trust anyone, nobody could betray your trust. If you do not get attached to anyone, your heart cannot be broken. And if you do not show unnecessary emotion, nobody can see your weaknesses. I have broken all three of these rules. I trusted Jenny, was attached to her, showed her that I cared. And, since I have already broken rule three, I guess once more cannot hurt. I lay down on my couch and cry.
I hear footsteps outside my door. It is 21:15, who could be coming to visit me? I would assume most of my friends are not in need of company.
Gibbs needs but three words: basement, boat, bourbon.
Tony is no doubt through his third beer at a bar, hitting on some hot blonde he'll take home for the night and promptly forget about.
McGee must be writing a sweet chapter for Director Shepard in his next book—I wonder what her name is? Something obvious, of course. Perhaps she is Director Jenna Retriever, or something like that.
Ducky will be with his mother or something, I'm sure he has finished the autopsy by now. And Palmer, well, I do not know Palmer that well but I bet he is reading or studying.
And Abby. She is the wild card of the group, now, is she not? She could be doing a million things—she could be drunk at a bar, or sobbing into Bert, or—
I hear a faint knocking at the door.
- or coming to visit me, because she cannot be alone tonight. I understand. I suppose some company couldn't hurt. I slowly walk up to the door and open it just a crack. Abby is near running back towards the staircase.
"Abby?" I call out faintly.
She turns around, shocked. She can't seem to find anything to say. "Come in, Abby," I murmur. I wish to speak louder but I know that if I do, I will begin crying again. It is one thing to cry in private—though that shows weakness as well. But I will not cry in front of Abby.
The Goth scientist hesitates, but follows me in. Already she is talking a mile a minute about whether or not I may want company and how she just couldn't stay by herself, but she'd understand if I wanted her to leave.
"Abby!" I say at a normal volume. "Breathe. Of course you can stay here. I do not want to stay alone either. I will make up the couch for you…"
Abby nods. I get her a glass of water from the kitchen and wordlessly hand it to her. She drinks slowly, then says, "I'm sorry, Ziva."
I know that she does not only mean about Jenny. I know that Abby is apologizing for all the rude comments and glares she's given me. I perfectly understand—I was taking Kate's place on the team. Abby losing Kate probably felt the same as me losing Jenny. I know already that I will naturally bear some animosity towards the new director. It is human nature, yes?
I nod, not trusting my voice. Abby wraps her arms around my neck before whispering, "Well, you're probably exhausted…"
Of course, I really am. I climb into my bed and fall into a sound sleep until about four a.m.
I am awoken by Abby's screaming. "Abby! Abby?" I call, grabbing my Sig from the nightstand and running to the living room.
"Abby, Abby, wake up! You're just having a bad dream, it's okay, wake up!" I scream at her shrieking body. Finally, her thrashing stops and she opens her eyes—full of tears. "Z-Ziva?" she whispers, choking on her own words.
"I am right here, Abby. It was only a dream."
"I—I dreamt that… that the people who… who killed… Jenny… came back and… and killed Gibbs, and Tony… and Timmy… and Ducky and Palmer…and you. And I was all alone… with nobody to go to… when they came for me, too…" Abby manages to choke out these words between sobs. I hold her in my arms, just letting her cry for what feels like hours but is more like forty minutes before Abby looks up at me, eyes full of guilt.
"I woke you up—oh, God, Ziva, I'm so sorry… I completely intruded and then I can't even let you sleep…" Abby starts to ramble again but I cut her off.
"You are always welcome, Abby. I do not mind being woken up, as long as you feel better. Now, do you want to go back to sleep, or do you want to stay up?"
Abby considers this for a moment. "I… I'm tired. But… do you think, maybe, I could sleep with you? I mean, not with you with you, but like in your bed, or on the floor next to your bed, I mean, it's just… if you're there, I don't think the nightmares can get me," she explains with the logic of a child. It's quite endearing. I do not feel the need to respond, just grab her hand and lead her to bed with me. We lay down and Abby wraps her arms around me.
It's strange, but things never felt quite so…right.