Disclaimer: NCIS characters and situations borrowed; the original story and scenario from "Believe Again" by Montana-Rosalie, FFN story ID #5047152 .

A/N: yet another installment in my continuing theft of Montana-Rosalie's Believe Again, which has taken a life of its own in my poor little brain, as if it was the pilot episode for yet another NCIS spin-off! So again, repeating my thanks to M-R for her generous and gracious permission to tromp all over her fic and for being so encouraging. Also, my thanks to Mari83 for reading and for always finding and having fun with the esoteric geeky parts!

WARNING: these installments are woefully out of chronological order! If it matters, were they chronological this would be first, then 2 then 1... it all sorta just happened when this one shot became a 2 shot then a 3... and a 4th is presently in progress...

Shameless plea: this story has been getting a good number of hits, but not too many reviews. I'm completely un-psychic and have no way to know if this stinks until you tell me, so throw me a word or two – all reviews, comments, and thoughts very much appreciated...

Believing still

He awoke with a start; the name was past his lips before his brain engaged. "Ziva?"

"Hey, Tony. It's me. Abby." The raspy, comfortably familiar voice came with a shifting of position – and an unmistakable hippo-fart – from the chair just a couple feet away. "And Bert," she added, coming over to take his hand and stand close, at his bedside.

She needn't have identified herself. Of course he knew the sound of her at the very first syllable, and he felt himself smile a little at all the sounds that spelled Abby.

"Hey, Abs," he whispered, relaxing back into the pillows under him, tired already – remembering the what and where of things. Only hours out of a coma, and everything was still kicking his ass. Well, they said he'd be weak at first, but he never thought he'd be more flattened by anything than he'd been by the plague...

"Tony, Ziva will be right back; she didn't want to leave, but it's been almost two whole days since she left Prague and she wanted to stay but she really wanted a shower and some clean clothes, too, so when you dropped off to sleep again and it seemed like you were sleeping really soundly this time she said if I was going to be here anyway she was going to go home just long enough to shower and change and come right back and you know how fast she drives, so it won't be long at all."

The bubbling, energetic, prototypical Abby explanation spelled home for Tony as much as anything did. She had been there, with him, when he first woke up – or at least soon enough that he remembered her being there from those very first moments. Abby had been at his side through many of the past hours, at least until Ziva came, finally admitting to him that he "shouldn't have to be alone" now that he was awake, after so many weeks and months of being alone in his head, even if they'd all been there, over so many months, sitting with him, talking to him.

Her presence was comforting, her funny, raspy Abby-voice even more grounding now that he had only auditory cues to tie him back to the familiar. Abby had been with him though so many of his bumps and bruises, often there for him when even he didn't know he needed a friend. She had been at his bedside as often as she could manage when he was recovering from the plague; she'd even come to his place a couple times after he'd been sent home, too, bearing soup and later, pizza, but had gotten less time free from the lab once he was out of the woods and out of the hospital. He'd always suspected that she got the extra time thanks to Gibbs, so she could make the trip out to Bethesda while the others were busy ... or less dedicated to their roles as surrogate family than Abby always managed to be.

This time, he'd been back in the land of the conscious for about forty eight hours, as best he could tell, and almost immediately had been hit with the news that the muddy grey fog in which he now found himself was all that was left of his previously 20/10 sight. It was Abby's presence that kept him from breaking down completely. With her there, he couldn't break down – but with her there, and there for him, there was also less of a reason to lose it. Abby was always Abby, always there for him, whatever was needed. No matter what else lay ahead, with Abby in his corner, he knew he didn't have to fear facing the dark alone. He would never have guessed that it could mean so much.

Funny, though ... it had been Ziva, not Abby, who had been in his dreams – or what had passed as dreams – while he had been comatose. He'd heard the others, all of them, he was sure he had, and he knew that all of them had been there, one time or another, talking to him, even playing his favorite movies, and theirs, on the portable DVD player McGee had brought and offering their commentary as they did. But not like Ziva – no matter what other memories he thought he had from it all, Ziva had been alive and vibrant in his dreams the whole time ...

He found that he wasn't certain what he had dreamed before he'd awakened, and what had really happened since. He couldn't tell memory from fantasy about what he had said and what she had done. Was it just his scrambled brains not yet firing on all cylinders? Or was it only because his last waking thoughts, before he exploded, were of the danger she was in? Of keeping her safe? Or maybe ... maybe was it some of the same things that led him to thoughts about her on the job, sometimes, before he caught himself with a mental head-slap and a reminder about Rule 12...

Abby said that Ziva had been there – or, implied she had been, in telling him she had wanted to stay. Abby was his rock. Abby wouldn't lie...

"Tony?" Abby's expressive voice brought with it a new worry for him, maybe with his silence as he still tried to sort things through. "She ought to be back any minute."

So she read his mind now, too? He gave the hand holding his a little squeeze and mustered a smile. "She probably has plenty to do, Abs, if she just got back from a mission with Gibbs."

"She's coming right back." Abby said firmly. At his silence, she squeezed his hand in return and said, "we all missed you, Tony. We all came to see you and did whatever we could think of to get you back awake and back to us. But Ziva ... even more."

He suddenly remembered one of his dreams, of Ziva sitting at his side, where Abby stood now, the hospital's sounds hushed around him, with her soft, crooning voice singing just barely above the mechanical sounds of the life support systems around him. He remembered it as being in Hebrew ... a lullaby, maybe. Real? Or dream?

'Real or dream?' he snorted to himself. Sounded like a bad TV game show from the '50s...

"I think I remember," he admitted. "Think that's possible?"

"I know it's possible," Abby asserted, a little hippo fart emphasizing her words. "It's one of the reasons they decided it's a good idea to talk to people in comas, sometimes they know what's going on and hear it all." She paused a moment, and when he said nothing more, she spoke again, a nervous energy in her voice making her sound as if she was uncomfortable and trying to make small talk. "What do you remember?"

"Ziva" he admitted. Singing, he remembered again, but didn't tell Abby – even with his thoughts still muddy, he suspected Ziva wouldn't have done it if she thought anyone one know. "You ... Everyone. 'Blazing Saddles,'" he laughed softly.

"That was Gibbs." He could hear Abby grin.

"Thought so," he nodded. "But wouldn't have expected it from him. I would have guessed John Wayne." He fought to stay awake a little longer.

"Oh, yeah, but those were the first he brought. Maybe you were more out of it then."

Just a few minutes more; it wasn't fair that after so many months asleep he couldn't stay awake longer that this... "And you brought 'Dracula,'" he managed, the memory bringing his own smile.

"Tony! You really did hear us!"

The discomfort he'd heard from her earlier evaporated again, to his relief, and he felt his smile soften as his consciousness did. "Told ya..." he murmured. He'd dreamed of Ziva ... but he'd heard them all, heard that they were all there for him this time. "You guys kept me alive..."

He heard a gulp; her breathing hitched. But if she had anything to say in response, it was lost as he slipped under again, sleep claiming him once more.

"Oh, Tony," Abby breathed, seeing him drift off again, and she jabbed at the new trickle of tears on her cheek, Bert farting softly as she did. Not wanting him to be alone again, she carefully lay Bert on the far side of him and climbed onto the softly growling bariatric bed, settling down beside him. "There's no way we were gonna let you leave us, not even by sleeping through everything..." She muttered, closing her eyes, the gently shifting bed adding to her sleep-deprived state. "Now you just need to work on coming back home..."

***

"Abby..."

The cool touch of Ziva's hand registered as her voice did, waking Abby from an odd, dreamless doze. Blinking up at the agent, she saw that Ziva looked as if she felt a little better than before, freshly showered, clean cargoes and a soft t-shirt thrown on with her hair pulled back in a simple band, all the faster to return. Even so – she was clearly still exhausted.

Ziva's eyes left Abby's to look at the man next to her, sleeping quietly, and without thinking, she straightened one of the lines still feeding a drip into his arm to avoid its tangling after he moved around a little, such little touches automatic now. As she did, Abby sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb him before he was ready to rouse again. "Did he awaken while I was gone?" Ziva asked softly.

Abby looked back at Tony as if to reassure herself of his ongoing recovery, then nodded, as she swung her legs to the side of the bed. "For a few minutes," she whispered. With another, assessing glance at the patient, Ziva motioned toward the hall, so they could talk without disturbing him. Abby nodded and followed her out, stretching a little with her own sleep deprivation.

They'd barely stepped out into the hall before Abby spoke again, the nap-cobwebs clearing, as she remembered some of the more encouraging parts of Tony's moments awake. "Tony remembers us all being here, Ziva! He remembers the movies. And he remembers you," she added. "When he woke up – he said your name, right away, like before he was even really awake..."

"I should have been here," Ziva shook her head, frustrated that she'd gone and been missing once again when he woke, frustrated at her timing. "I knew I should have stayed..."

"No, Ziva, it was okay." Abby's look of concern now encompassed Ziva's well-being as well as Tony's. "I just thought you should know ... you know..."

Ziva nodded, but not fully convinced. "So he was awake longer this time, yes?"

"Maybe a little bit. But the best news according to Ducky is that he's remembering and he's talking and it all makes sense. So maybe how long he stays awake isn't the most important thing for now."

Ziva looked into Abby's wide, compassionate eyes, urging her comfort, urging Tony to be better, and she smiled a little, in spite of the circumstances. Abby had known Tony as long as Gibbs had; according to Tony, this was just one more of several hospital vigils she'd spent with him, willing him back to health. Ziva reflected the fierce loyalty the woman showed for her team, and with some affectionate humor suddenly remembered how hard it had been for Abby to accept her stepping into Kate's place. She had no doubt that, if history were to repeat itself, Abby had accepted her now too, so completely, that if another agent were called on to fill her place, Abby would be likely to give them a hard time, too, at first.

"Abby – thank you," the Israeli's dark eyes looked deep into the Goth's green ones. "Tony said something last night, about how you have always been here for him, how he knows you'll be right there by his side when he needs you. I am glad. Especially when..." She wavered, the thought still a difficult one, after so many months of standing by, waiting and hoping. "... when the rest of us were not." The thought clearly still pained her that they had missing to him – that she had been missing – when he needed his teammates the most. "He was more asleep than awake, but he called you his rock – that you have been so steady and strong for him it made things a little less bad."

"Really?" Ziva saw Abby's eyes suddenly brimming with tears, and a look of desperate need to believe her words. "Honest? Because this is so hard! I so didn't want Tony to know just how much... but Ziva," Abby's large, expressive eyes spilled over again. "I was so afraid I wouldn't know how to talk to him."

The reaction surprised her. "Just as you always do; Abby, you are always good at taking people as they are," Ziva pressed.

"...but some things are harder than others, right, Abs?"

"Gibbs!" Abby spun suddenly and as the strong arms of their team leader went around her, Ziva saw Abby seem to crumble, her previous cheer and strength clearly held in place only by sheer will power until Gibbs could get back from Europe, to get back to the team and to Tony, to make things right again.

As Abby shuddered soundlessly against Gibbs' chest, he looked over to Ziva, his expression unreadable, but his face drawn again, his eyes not as neutral as he would hope. "How is he, Ziva?"

Meaning, 'how is he taking it?' "Weak," she clipped, knowing it would be far easier to report facts, not opinion. "He does not often stay awake long for more than a few minutes at a time, but his doctor said that will improve steadily. He is oriented to time and place." She concentrated on breathing evenly, summoning her training to focus, so she would avoid crumbling as certainly as Abby had...

"Ziva..." Gibbs voice was uncharacteristically gentle, the concern there for Tony – for her – enough, when added to her exhaustion and worry, that Ziva's eyes spilled over anyway.

"...and he knows, and maybe is a little afraid," she forced herself to keep reporting, pushing her emotions back, "but we have not left him alone since he has been awake. He has not had much time to think it through yet."

Gibbs considered her, his expression again haunted. "You know he has," he murmured.

Finding the thought difficult – but certainly true – Ziva insisted, "maybe so. But not as much as if he were awake for very long – or left alone with his thoughts."

Gibbs seemed to consider that, finally nodding his agreement that it was the best that could be hoped at this point. "Okay," he sighed. "Abby..." He turned his attention back to her, rubbed her back. "You're exhausted. You've done a good job here. You need to get some rest so you can come back again and Tony won't know how hard this is."

Abby pulled back a little and nodded, dabbing at her now reddened eyes with her sleeve.

"I don't want you driving, though. McGee's on his way. He'll be downstairs in two minutes to take you home."

"But Gibbs," she roused from her earlier surrender. "I should wait and tell Tony I'll be back to see him tomorrow..."

Even in his own exhaustion, Gibbs' faint smile was tender for her. "He knows you will, Abs."

With only a moment's hesitation as she looked at Gibbs, weighing his words, Abby then turned to Ziva. To her surprise, Abby seemed to be seeking her confirmation as well. Ziva nodded immediately, relieved that in this, she could wholeheartedly agree. "It is true, Abby. And I will tell him Gibbs ordered you home for a while, yes?"

Wordlessly, Abby shifted out of Gibbs's arms to throw her arms around Ziva, surprising the Israeli again with her emotional hug of support and shared grief. Moments later, after another long look to Gibbs, wanting to believe he could make this right too, Abby turned from them both, saying nothing, and walked away toward the elevator.

Gibbs turned back to Ziva. With the waiting and the diagnosis finally resolved, his concern for his injured agent – his injured agents – was as immediate as it had been those first dark days after the explosion. "You okay?" he asked softly.

The question surprised and slightly flustered her, as if she hadn't known that Gibbs had figured out her feelings for Tony long before she had. "I am fine," she said, her voice clipped as she worked to keep a professional distance on her observations, even though to do so she could not meet Gibbs' eyes. "I was able to finish my report on the plane and I will have it on your desk in the morning."

"Ziva –" Gibbs paused, as if he was going to say something else, but changed his mind, nodding in concession. Turning away from her to look toward Tony's room, silently at first, he finally asked, "How is he really?"

Ziva swallowed, again finding formality safer. "As I said – I believe he has been awake enough to have it register ... but not too deeply yet. He..." She paused, then offered, "he is choosing not to think about it, perhaps."

"Or talk about it?"

"Definitely not talk about it." Ziva nodded quickly. At least, not after those first moments, when she first arrived after he'd awakened. "But he has not been conscious for long periods yet. His patterns of sleep are shifting, however, and he is waking up after less time asleep. Ducky has said that is also to be expected, as his brain gets back into a more normal sleeping-waking cycle." She looked back into the stoic expression Gibbs worked to maintain and offered, "he said that Tony is showing more of the recovery he would have expected of someone in a coma only half as long, maybe even less – and that it is all very hopeful."

Gibbs nodded, and tipped his head toward the door again. "You should get back in there, if he's going to wake again soon."

"He would want you to say hello, if you are here anyway." Ziva finally met his gaze.

Gibbs seemed to waiver, then nodded. "But when he drops off again, I need to get back. And I want to check on Abby."

Ziva frowned. "Abby?" At his nod, she shrugged, "she did seem a little more upset than usual at this but then it is upsetting, is it not? Would you expect anything different from her?"

"No – but Ducky had to remind me."

As she waited for more, Ziva saw again the toll this had taken on their team leader: maybe it was temporary, maybe not, but DiNozzo's long coma and now his blindness was wearing on Gibbs in a way that long hours and physical pounding never did. It was more than simply a commander losing a man, something Ziva had seen enough in the Mossad, from her father, from other commanders. There was no question that Gibbs was dedicated to his men in general. But maybe it was Tony's abiding need for his approval, maybe the younger man's faithful dedication to his team leader. Whatever the reason, Gibbs had a special concern for Tony, and he was clearly still trying to come to terms with the knowledge that he would never rejoin the team – and the effect it had on the rest of them.

"Abby's family is Deaf, Ziva." Involuntarily, Gibbs thought of the stories he'd heard from Abby over the years of her parents, of her grandmother and uncles, also Deaf, of her growing up as a part of a large Deaf community, her occasional visits home often including a return to their pot lucks and bowling nights and annual reunions. "Do you have any idea what the idea of blindness means in the Deaf community?"

Ziva frowned slightly as she considered it. The information helped explain why the normally emotional woman would take the news especially hard – not only was she close to Tony, but her family would have relied on vision for everything, not only the usual things for which people used their eyes, but also just about everything for which the rest of the population used their ears. "No," she admitted. "But ... I do not know that I fully understand yet what it means for Tony, either."

Her words seemed to momentarily sting Gibbs, but Ziva couldn't speculate why. It was only a moment, though, and his face slipped back into his stony mask. "He'll beat it," he said tersely. "He's stubborn enough."

She looked back to Gibbs, wondering what was going through his mind with his words. "He will not walk this one off, Gibbs," she urged, quietly. "Not this time."

"He damn well better," Gibbs said softly as he moved past her toward Tony's room. "Even if he has to do it without sight."

Ziva watched her boss disappear into Tony's room and, after a moment or two to gather herself, unmoving, she sighed and followed him in. As Gibbs stood a few feet from the bed, his practiced eye looking for improvement since the last time he'd been there and since Tony had found his way back to the world, Ziva came up close to his bedside. With a small laugh, she saw that in the past few minutes he'd pulled Bert to his chest, his arm still looped around the fuzzy grey hippo, the remnants of a drowsy grin still on his face. Bless Abby, she thought in some relief. Ziva had a hunch that even if she found this harder going than other times, Abby would still be their guide to helping Tony get through the weeks and months ahead.

After all ... she was pretty sure no one else at NCIS would have thought to bring a farting hippo to work...

***