Authour's Notes: I know it's been a while. But midterms are still not over yet. Had a test everyday last week. And a paper due Tuesday which I pulled from my butt ( I had not idea what the hell I was doing), a midterm today (which went all right I guess?), and one last midterm tomorrow. Geology. Ugh. Shoot me.

Thank you ncisxpsych13245 for your wondrous reviews and comments.

Now onward to the story!

Dr. Donald 'Ducky' Mallard may need glasses that are at least three inches thick to see beyond what was two feet in front of him but he wasn't blind. He knew it was coming. Hell, they all knew it was coming. They all knew that she was going to explode. They actually had a rather morbid bet going on that Tony was going to be the one to bear the blunt of her emotional outburst. But Ducky is actually waiting for any of them to detonate.

After all, there was only so much that the human mind can compute and hold. All those emotions are just rampaging inside their minds.

It was only a matter of time. And a matter of who exactly would blow up.

She felt restless. After being confined in a room for three months, after being tortured, after being questioned for endless hours, after being rescued, people expected her to stay in yet another room to 'recuperate.'

Recuperate her arse.

So when Gibbs told her that he "needn't see around and that she should rest some more", before bundling her up in his car to drive back to Abby's flat where she was going to be staying until she found another place to call home, (since Mossad did blow up her apartment all those months ago), she promptly defied his orders, snuck out of Abby's house while the forensic scientist was snoring away with Bert as her companion, and showed up at the bull pen at 5 in the morning one day, nearly giving McGee a heart attack.

McGee had actually arrived early for once, even earlier than Gibbs who practically ate, showered, and slept there, and the office lights were still muted, giving the place a faint glow. Sunlight was just starting to stream in through the windows. He had turned the corner to enter the bullpen to put his stuff away and maybe take a short nap when he just about jumped out of his skin when he saw a lithe figure sitting in a chair, fiddling with the cast that encased the person's entire left arm.

"Hello McGee."

"Z-z-ziva? What're you doing here? I thought you were at Abby's! What-"spluttered McGee as his suitcase dropped out of his hand and fell to the floor with a 'thud'.

Her hazel brown eyes had bored into him as she stood up and picked up his suitcase to put on his desk. She replied cryptically with a "I couldn't stay there anymore."

Now McGee was confused. He thought everything was going dandy. Everything might not have been okay, nothing could have been considering the events that had happened, but he thought that everyone had put aside their differences to help Ziva out of the hellhole.

Ziva must had seen his bewilderment for she steered him into his chair and perched on the edge of his table like a wren, her face thrown into the shadow, for the lights had still; not been turned on yet.

She then repeated her previous statement softly, as if she was telling herself instead of to McGee: "I couldn't stay there anymore."

A short silence came between the two before McGee ventured to ask why.

Ziva shifted a bit and sighed. "Abby is a good person." She leaned back and tilted her head at an angle. "She has done things that most people that I consider companions would not do. She has opened the door to her house for me with open arms. She has allowed me to infringe upon her property and privacy only to care for me. She is always by my side, always helping me." This was all said in a low voice, a tone that invoked a sense of intimacy, of privacy.

McGee arched an eyebrow and remained silent.

"And that is precisely why I cannot stay at Abby's house."

McGee just nodded and replied in an equally even tone. "I think I understand."

And he did. He really did. As much as what Abby was doing was to help Ziva, she was practically suffocating the poor girl. He remembered what happened last week with vivid clarity.

It was two in the morning.

And here was McGee, driving down the highway like a madman on the run, wearing just a t-shirt and tousled sweatpants. He was probably breaking about twelve different traffic rules right now. But it's not like he's keeping count as he swerved and narrowly missed keying a black Chevvy that was going a tad too slow for his liking. His breathe catches a little, as his newly healed non-bruised ribs (that were definitely going to be bruised tomorrow due to his wild driving, making him slide in his seat despite the seatbelt) protest.

He stopped his car by a hair's breadth from tail gating the car in front of his as he cuts across three lanes and haphazardly turns into a narrow street. He rammed his car right up on to the lawn in front of the fourth house on the left and dove out the door, barely remembering to fling the car door shut. Bounding up the front stairs two at a time, he managed a single knock on the door before it was flung open to reveal a nearly hysterical Abby Scuito, wearing a black pyjama outfit with white skull patterns on it, who threw herself into his arms, tears running down her face.

McGee gently eased himself inside the forensic scientist's house, closing the door behind him, as Abby, without taking a breath, practically wailed out- I don't know what I'm doing anymore, she woke me up, and I just don't know what to do anymore, and I'm just so tired, and help her, help her, help her.

Barely giving Abby a second glance, he hurried further into the house. Abby scurried after him, wringing her hands. They both came upon the living room and Abby hurried over to the prone figure sitting on the couch.

McGee had stopped at the doorway to the living room, blinking furiously, the only immediate thought going through his mind was that this couldn't be the living room cause the last time he saw the living room, it didn't look like this. Pillows were set on every flat surface and the floor was covered with sleeping bags and he spied at least three blown up mattresses amid the blankets that enclosed the room. If he didn't know who was present in the house right now, he would have thought the current scene before him was of a slumber party, what with the three chairs pushed together to make one long resting place, where Abby was sitting on now. Focusing on Abby, he noticed she was attempting to comfort Ziva who looked like she was going to strangle a bear with her bare hands- and that bear was Abby.

Venturing into the room cautiously, he managed to slip on one of the many blown up mattresses, bumped against the coffee table, and fell face first in front of the two girls, clocking his head against the corner of the chair Abby was sitting on, effectively ending any and all confrontations between the two girls.

Ziva just looked at him curiously, still with a rather murderous expression on her face, while Abby jumped up, concern making little crinkles on her forehead. "McGee! Are you okay? I'll get some ice." She ran in the direction of the kitchen, jumping gracefully over the obstacles in the room, leaving him alone with a maybe psychotic Ziva.

Great.

McGee groaned and gingerly pulled himself up to occupy the seat which Abby left vacant. Ziva hadn't moved an inch; she was as still as stone.

McGee's mind was whirling about what exactly made Abby decide to call him in the middle of the night screaming into the phone that he needed to get over here now and what exactly happened between the two girls to make Ziva look like she wanted to smash something and maybe blow up a house or two. He was just about to say something when Abby came back with a bag of ice, leapt over the two air mattresses with practiced ease, and handed the ice pack to McGee. In the other hand, she was holding what looks to be a pack of pills.

He was just about to ask Abby what it was when Abby thrusted the pills under Ziva's nose and said "Ziva. Come on. You have to sleep. Just chug the sleeping pill down."

If anything, Ziva's face grew more closed as her lips thinned in a universal sign of displeasure. "No."

As McGee placed the ice pack over his aching head, he watched the two girls interact.

"Ziva! Please!" came the pleading voice of Abby, who looked exhausted and impatient.

And the answer back was a vehement "No."

Abby's face hardened for a brief second.

And that's when all nine parts of Hell broke loose.

"Why can't you just do what I ask, Ziva?" Abby was screaming into Ziva's face. "I'm trying to help you but I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself and I'm trying my best and-" At this point, Abby had picked up Bert and flung him across the room.

McGee made to restrain Abby. "Abby, let's calm down and-"

A bellow in response. "I will not calm down!" She shoved McGee away from her, tears falling down her face.

She continued to scream: "I'm just trying to help and why won't you let me? I.. I… I'm just so tired." Abby breathed deeply as if she had just ran a ten mile marathon as she slowly slid down to sit in a fetal position at the base of Ziva's chair, crying into her knees.

Throughout the exchange, Ziva's face had been bank. Only after Abby had slumped down did her face show any emotions. Her eyes shined, as if tears were also threatening to fall down her face, but it might have just been a trick of the light. Her knuckles had turned white, as her grip against the couch had tightened.

As Abby continued to sob, Ziva put a tentative hand on the clearly distressed forensic scientist's shoulder and muttered in a low tone, "My apologizes. I did not mean to upset you. I just… I think we need a break from each other."

Abby hiccupped and nodded. "Yea. I think so too."

Deciding that it was now safe to move, McGee sighed, picked up Bert, and gave him to Abby who clung to the stuffed hippopotamus tightly.

And the three sat in silent as the sun rose up and peeked in through the blinds.

Afterwards, McGee ordered Abby to bed. She was clearly exhausted and went eagerly, but not without giving furtive glances to Ziva. Seeing Abby to bed, he had paused outside the living room, contemplating on how to make Ziva go to bed as well when he heard quiet sniffles. He peered through the crack of the doorway and saw silent tears sliding down her face.

He huffed and said through the door, his voice muffled but still gentle, "Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't comment on the tears.

An anxious silence had occurred after she had told McGee that she couldn't stay cooped up in Abby's house anymore. His only reaction when she was telling him why was a raising of the eyebrows. Was that suppose to mean something?

So when McGee had said solemnly, "I think I understand," Ziva's stomach did a little flip. McGee said he understood. Her mind was going in quick circles, wondering if he just said that or if he really meant it.

Just as she was about to say something, McGee grinned whimsically.

"I guess we're going house hunting then."

And that's when she knew that things were going to get better.

So um yea. I reread the chapter a couple times before posting it and still couldn't find a good way to end the chapter. Hope it's all right and that it makes sense...

This was just a little filler about the relationship between Abby and Ziva. And McGee's observations. He's such a sweet guy really.

Again, review review review! Much appreicated!

Or you know, tell me what your favourite part is. Or how you want the story to progress. Is it too slow?

Don't know when I'll be updating.