I've been reading lots and lots of FF lately, so my writing may be a little OOC. I decided there should be more romantic drama in the pasts of our favorite NCIS women. I could let you guys figure it out as you go along, but I don't want you all dead confused, so this is a vague version of what happened: there was a McAbby past and a current McGiva thing going on. And yes, I may have borrowed the bit about the names from a book called Handle With Care by Jodi Picoult. It's a really good book. You should check it out. Love you all, thanks for reading. Reviews make me happy…please make me a happy writer.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, it belongs to Belisarius Productions. If I spelt that right. I may not have. I also do not own Handle With Care, that's a book by Jodi Picoult. The only thing I own in here is the fact that I wrote this fanfiction. That's all. So please don't sue me.

Abby

I wake up, but don't open my eyes immediately. I want to enjoy the feeling of laying in Ziva's bed, with her arm snaked around my torso and her cheek on my shoulder. I want to savor this moment that will probably never happen again. God, she's beautiful… anyone on this planet, man or woman, would kill to be in this position right now. I count my lucky stars that I'm the one cuddled up against the Israeli beauty, and no one else. I wonder how long it has been since a boyfriend of Ziva's took the time to realize just how lucky they are…Oh. OH.

I only just remembered something—or rather, someoneI had completely forgotten: MCGEE! How could I have been so stupid to forget, to fall in love with my own little Timmy's girlfriend? It was a recent get-together, true, they've only been dating maybe a few weeks, a month at the most… but how could I forget? Oh God, I really have to get over her! I can't be in love with Ziva, not while Timmy is with her! I can't break his little heart all over again! Oh, I'm a terrible person. I'm wicked, I'm awful, I'm… not able to breathe.

Calm, Abby, deep breaths. In…out…in…out… oh, I can't breathe! I cannot breathe. What's happening to me?

I'm frantic. I think I'm panicking, I'm having a panic attack, oh God, what do I do? Ziva stirs against my back.

"Abby? Abby? Are you ill?" Ziva says, attempting to be calm but I can detect a hint of panic in her voice.

"C-Can't… breathe…" I gasp out. She runs to get me a paper bag and helps me breathe through it. Finally, my vision clears and my lungs open up.

"Abby, what just happened?" Ziva exclaims.

"Um…s-sometimes I have panic attacks." I respond, ashamed. I feel awful for scaring her, and I must have looked so weak. She asks if they happen frequently.

"Uh, they used to, when I was a kid… I haven't had one in a long time… I forgot what they felt like. So I wasn't so good at handling it. I'm so sorry."

Ziva tells me there's no need to apologize. We decide to go out for breakfast. She selects a quiet little diner down the street from her apartment building. Ziva gets a sensible adult meal: oatmeal and whole wheat toast and black tea. I ask for chocolate chip pancakes and hot chocolate. Ziva laughs when I order. I stick my tongue out at her playfully, trying not to imagine what else my tongue should be doing to her…

"Abigail, you are so juvenile!" she teases. It feels so good to joke with a friend. It keeps our minds off of Jenny.

"Well, I'd rather be juvenile than boring!" I fire back.

"Are you saying that I am boring? I have fun!" Ziva retorts, mock-offended.

"Oh, please, Z. Tony says you've never even air-guitared."

"I like to have fun in more…adult ways. Is that a problem?"

"Adult ways as in reading?" I laugh.

Ziva frowns. "Yes. I like to read."

"Z… most adults I know have adult fun in much, much more adult ways," I say, maybe just a little suggestively.

"Oh? Believe me, Abigail, I can be a very, very… fun person when the mood strikes me," Ziva responds, winking.

"Oh, can you now?" I ask playfully.

Ziva's answer is cut off when the waitress brings by our food. We eat in silence for a few minutes before my curiosity gets the better of me.

"So, Ziva. How are things between you and McGee?"

She looks a little surprised, caught off guard for a minute, before responding, "Well, we have gone out a few times… he is very sweet… but I do not think I want it to be a serious relationship. He is a very nice man, McGee is, and a wonderful friend. And I do care for him. A lot. But…"

"But…? But what?" I ask.

Ziva sighs. "I just do not see it going past a few dinner dates. I am not as… invested… in the relationship as he is, you see? But you know what that is like, I presume. I've heard rumors of a former relationship between the two of you?"

I laugh. "Yeah, there's some truth to those… back when McGee wasn't even on the team yet, we dated a little. I was just looking for some fun, you know? Nothing serious. I'm not so good with commitment—"

Ziva cuts me off. "But you have been at NCIS for years. That takes commitment, yes?"

"Well, yes. But in the sense of a relationship, Timmy intimidated me. He wanted a serious, lasting relationship, one that ends in marriage and little girls called Alice and little boys called Elton, and a golden retriever and a white picket fence. And me, I was bored and just wanted a fling."

Ziva nods. "So when you broke it off…"

I finish for her. "There was some tension. It was awkward for a little while, but we got thought that. And now we're just good friends. So what are you going to do about your situation?"

Ziva sighs. "I… I don't know. I guess I will give it time, yes? I do care for him. I just do not want to get too invested…"

I can't decide how to feel. On one hand, I'm thrilled that she might break up with him. On the other hand, I really don't want Timmy to get hurt. On another hand, I feel like I shouldn't care either way, because regardless, Ziva's straight and I don't have a chance. And on another hand, I'm a little concerned. The average human doesn't have four hands…

I guess I'll just have to go with the flow and wait it out.

"Well, Ziva. It's Saturday, we're not on call, and it's hardly 11:30. We have a whole day ahead of us… wanna go somewhere?"

Ziva smiles. "Of course, Abigail. Where would you like to go?"

I pause for a minute, just thinking about the way she says my name. Abigail. She pronounces it like Abby-gale. Normally no one can get away with calling me Abigail, excluding Ducky. But when Ziva says it, it doesn't sound like I'm being reprimanded. It sounds… personal. She says it with care. It's funny, how you can hear whether someone cares for you by the way they say your name.

"Abigail? What is it they say… dollar for your thoughts?" Ziva calls to me. I smile at her mistake.

"Penny, Ziva. Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh. Well, your thoughts are worth far more than just a penny," Ziva says softly. I want to enjoy this moment… at the same time, I feel I'm reading too much into things.

"Aw, Zee, you're sweet. I was thinking of how you can hear when someone cares about you when they say your name."

Ziva looks confused.

"Look, Z. Say… Carol."

"Carol," she parrots.

"Now say Marcus."

"Marcus," Ziva repeats.

"Say Ariel," I command. Ziva complies. "Now say Abigail."

Ziva smiles. "Abigail," she says.

"You see, Ziva? You say Abigail different than you say Polly. It's like… Hailey is just a word. But Abigail is a person to you."

Ziva smiles. "You have the logic of a child, Abigail… it's wonderful."

I laugh. "So, where to now?"

The day passes far too fast. We go to a shopping mall, and I let Ziva dress me up in various business-y outfits, and I complained that I looked like Career Girl Barbie. We ate lunch and walked around a park until we finally got tired and sat down next to a river. The sun was just hardly sitting, and we sit quietly and watch the sun set. It wasn't an awkward silence. Everything we needed to say had already been said.

As I wrap my arm around Ziva—she looked cold—I try to convince myself to just be happy with the friendship I've got already. I should count my lucky stars that she's even in my life to begin with.