Longest chapter in the story! HAH, yes, not a Tiva chapter. I impress myself.

Pairing: Abby/Ziva friendship

Spoilers: Minor references from Judgment Day parts 1 and 2, Rivkin arc, Ray arc, Swan Song, Kill Ari parts 1 and 2, 9x05 "Safe Harbor". Basically, everything Ziva.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter! I asked my muses if they would like to share their heart-shaped candy with you, and...they said "no", so I went behind their backs and bought extra-large boxes for all of you.

Enjoy!

-Soph

She is propped up in bed, listening to Gibbs bring her up to date on work and her co-workers' various antics, when Abby arrives. She feels calmer than she has in a long time; Gibbs has a way of doing that. A man of many conflicting thoughts and emotions himself, he has a way of bringing serenity into the middle of chaos.

They both turn towards the door and watch as it clicks open silently, Abby tottering in as quietly as she can with a bouquet of roses that she can't see past. The scientist sneaks the bouquet across the room and places it gently onto the bedside table, only to turn and shriek when she realizes Ziva is awake. She has Ziva wrapped tenderly in her arms in the same instant. "You're awake," she whispers, and Ziva thinks she hears a suppressed sob.

It drives her to lift up her tired arm and rub Abby's back comfortingly. Abby, in all her colours, is rarely ever sad; she's often excited, happy, nervous, jealous, or even angry, but not sad. It takes a lot for Abby to be sad, and Ziva hates that she's the one who's caused that to happen. And yes, Tony has told her again and again that the cancer is not her fault.

So what?

Abby speaks up beside her. "I was so worried…Gibbs didn't tell me until yesterday…and you didn't tell me, and Tony…how could you guys have lied to me? How could I not have found out? I should've searched hospital records; don't know why I didn't think of it. I thought you might've told me if this was something big and you didn't tell me!"

"Abs," Gibbs interrupts. Abby turns her head to look at him and he vacates his seat, patting it. "Sit. I'm gonna get some coffee."

Abby nods reluctantly and lets go of Ziva, stepping around the bed to sink down into the chair. She waits until Gibbs leaves the room before glaring at Ziva. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Ziva sighs inwardly. Abby's anger, too, is as normal as Tony's worry. But how can she possibly answer the question? Why didn't she want to tell any of them? Why is she still regretting having told Tony and Gibbs? Because each time she looks at Tony, she sees a few more wrinkles on his forehead and a few less laughter lines around his eyes. Because he's had to hold her so many times that she wonders if she's permanently imprinted onto him, and she's caught him following her around like a frightened puppy so often that she'll forever be looking over her shoulder for him. Because Gibbs, even with his steady logic and his tough love and his sense of normalcy, looks a little older than before she told him. Why didn't she tell them? Because she needs them to stay the same when she can't, and they won't be able to stay the same once they know.

"Because I didn't want you to worry," she finally says, and gives a smile that she hopes forbids future questions. She doesn't know how to answer to Abby; she really doesn't. She doesn't know if she was right or wrong in not telling Abby, but she can't; not the happy goth. Not the one who sleeps in a coffin and names all her machines. Not the one whose bag wears a pink ribbon because it's a spot of brightness in an otherwise dark world. That's Abby – she's the glorious rainbow in their black, white, and grey world. She's the rainbow that Ziva doesn't want to wash away; doesn't want to fill with storm clouds and mark with raindrops.

How could she have told Abby?

"I was worried anyway; you've been so mysterious these few weeks. Always disappearing at weird times, and you're always looking so sad…McGee and I wondered, Ziva. We wanted to help you. You could've let us help you."

Ziva recoils at the sting of that. "I don't need help."

"Yes, you do! When are you going to realize, Ziva, that sometimes it's better when other people are there?"

"How? How is it better when I see everyone around me, looking sad and pitying me? How is it better when Tony doesn't smile anymore and you, you come in and hug me like you had thought I was dead?"

It's Abby's turn to recoil. "I hugged you like I'd thought you were dead only because I was glad you were alive." Ziva falls silent. "I am glad you are alive. I wouldn't even have gotten to hug you at all if you were not. You think I want that, Ziva? I'd rather cry over you while you're here to see it! And I mean how can you think that we would pity you? You think this – you think me and Tony and Gibbs – this is pity? You think Tony stayed overnight here and practically had to be dragged away by me this morning because of pity? Stop pitying yourself and realize that we're here because we love you! We're not sad because of the cancer; we're sad because you aren't happy anymore!"

"How am I supposed to be happy, Abby? I have cancer. And yes, I know I'm not dying but I have weeks of chemotherapy after this and I will have to keep coming back to make sure I that stay in remission…nothing in my life will ever be the same again. And it's not just some cells that they cut out of my body. That was a part of me, Abby. That was part of me! A-and what if I want to marry? Have children? What am I supposed to tell my husband? That I'm a cancer survivor? That I may relapse, that I may have fertility problems? Can't you see how this changes everything for me?"

"It only changes if you want it to, Ziva."

"I can't make myself un-cancerous, Abby, I-"

"You're not cancerous, and you never were. The cells were cancerous. And that's not what I meant. You've survived so much. That summer in the desert – the summer before that. Jenny and Franks and Rivkin and that stupid Ray and God only knows what you survived before you came to NCIS. You really want to be brought down by cancer? This is you, Ziva! You're gonna mope around for the rest of your life because of this?"

"No." The quietness of the word makes them both blink, but there isn't much else that Ziva can say. Abby's right.

Ziva was always a fighter, in both the literal and poetic sense. Images from her childhood flashes before her, from the first time she had picked a fight to protect herself, to the last fight she had picked to protect her sister. She'd survived Tali's death, and her mother's. She'd survived hours of studying and training and desert and blood and torture and Ari and Eli and bombs. There were the small things, like the time she had fallen down and taken a chunk out of her knee, and refused to tell her parents because she was afraid of being punished. She'd gone into the bathroom and washed her wound and daubed it with antiseptic, all on her own. She remembers being so proud of herself.

And then there are the big things. Like cancer.

She wonders when she stopped being a fighter. All she does now is follow doctors' orders, accepting the diagnosis they've given her and getting the operation they tell her she needs, not because she wants to live but because she doesn't want to die. And yeah, she gets a second opinion and reads up on treatment alternatives because that's the right thing to do…but she's no longer sure if she ever wanted to do it. If she ever planned her life beyond this operation, this round of chemo, this painful misery – because somewhere along the way, she'd convinced herself that her life stops here.

Does it? She isn't sure anymore.

And where is that little girl with the antiseptic?

Her eyes meet Abby's exhaustedly. "No," she repeats, because she doesn't know what else to say. She must fight. Because she's always been a fighter; because she has to fight, right now.

Abby stands up and puts her arms around Ziva again. "The one thing I've always admired the most in you, Ziva, is not that you can kick butt. It's that you want to, for the right reasons. And you're so good at it. You save the world. But you've to save yourself now, okay? Promise. Promise you'll – you'll smile."

Ziva clears her throat to keep the shakiness out of it. "Can I promise that I will try?"

"Yeah. Just as long as you put in the effort. We want you to be happy again, Ziva. We all do."