[NCIS Fic] Taking Chances (2/8) - Abby/Ziva

[jaina47]

Title: Taking Chances
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Ziva David, Abby Sciuto, L.J. Gibbs, Jenny Sheppard, Tony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, Eli David
Category: Drama, Action, Romance
Genre: Slash
Prompt: #1 Beginnings
Word Count: (Total) 15,148
Spoilers: Very mild ones for 3.17 "Ravenous" but it veers off from the episode very quickly.
Summary: Ziva invites Abby over for dinner. Romance and complications ensue.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Heh. What to say? This author's note might get to be longer than the entire fic. :p  First up, a big thanks to ncruuk.  Her comments not only pointed out some stylistic choices I hadn't thought about before, but also kept me laughing through the whole thing. I actually enjoyed the whole editing process. I don't think that's every happened to me before.

Second of all, if you think you've read this fic before, you would be right.  I started this fic in March of  '06 and wrote the first three parts before I got stuck and stopped writing it. I always meant to come back to it, but it just never quite worked out. When I realized it was the last fic I had to complete to finish fanfic100 I decided it was really time to buckle down. Plus I rather like the symmetry of this being the first fic I started for fanfic100 and the last I finished.  

The first three parts are where the fic stalled out, but they've been re-written in parts and just now beta'd for the first time.  After that, it's all new!

My Little Damn Table

Part One


Part Two

Ziva David studied the tattoos that covered her lover's bare back. She traced whirls and sharp lines alike with the tip of her index finger. Occasionally she would drop a feather light kiss on a particularly tempting bit of silky skin. Abby lay on her stomach, her head turned so that she could watch Ziva out of the corner of her eye.

Her golden tan against Abby's pale skin made an interesting contrast. Abby was entranced by the way that Ziva's wild hair fell down around her shoulders and curls tickled the bare skin of her arms and back. She shifted slightly, flipping over until she lay on her side, facing Ziva. Ziva looked briefly miffed, until Abby slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her into a leisurely  kiss.

When the kiss ended, Ziva traced the line of Abby's body down to her thigh. Abby didn't bother to try to stifle an involuntary gasp as Ziva kissed a sensitive spot on her stomach.

"You should be a controlled substance," Ziva whispered.

Abby grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should." Ziva shifted slightly, pushing herself up on her elbow. "Abigail-"

"Yeeessss," she drawled the word out when Ziva hesitated. She usually hated it when people used her full name. Abigail had been her parents' little girl, the innocent child. She was none of those things, but she loved it when Ziva used it: it was different and special, and she was already craving the sound of it from Ziva's mouth.

"I did not plan on doing this," she gestured between them, "When I offered to cook for you last night." A grin quirked over her lips. "Earlier this morning."

"I know." Abby tensed, drawing her knees closer to her chest. "I didn't either." She bit the metaphorical bullet. "Do you regret it?"

"No." Ziva's reply was sharp and quick as she reached a hand out to touch Abby's, gently flipping her hand over and twining her fingers through the other woman's. She leaned her head down to place a reverent kiss on those fingers. "No, I do not regret it. You fascinate me and I would like to get to know you better."

"Better than this?" Abby asked with a teasing laugh, trying to ease the tension of the moment as it suddenly grew too serious.

 
But Ziva wasn't joking when she replied. "Yes, better than this."

She gazed into Abby's eyes, letting her see that she meant exactly what she had said.

Abby hesitated; relationships had never treated her well. She had always felt confined by their boundaries and stifled and suffocated by the proprieties that she society claimed she owed her partner. She had a feeling though, that Ziva was different - that a relationship with Ziva would be different. She made her mind up swiftly, once she had considered it.

"I'd like that too," she answered with a grin, and raised her head to kiss Ziva.

Abby caught sight of something over Ziva's shoulder and froze. On the far wall of the small bedroom, standing on top of a dresser was a small picture. She pulled back to get a better look at it and then found herself scrambling away from Ziva.

She couldn't be in bed with a woman who had a photograph of Ari Hasswari on her dresser. It was wrong and horrible.

Ziva was rising slowly, startled and worried by her lover's sudden retreat. "Abigail?"

"Don't call me that," Abby snapped, as she paced frantically back in forth in front of the bed, searching for her shirt or skirt, anything that she could put on to get away.

"Tell me what is wrong," Ziva's voice was low and commanding, demanding that Abby pay attention to what she had said.

"Him," she spat the word, with a gesture towards the photo. "You can't expect me to sleep with you when you have a picture of him sitting on your dresser."

Ziva didn't need to look over her shoulder to see what picture Abby was referring to. She seemed to sag into herself. "Abigail, I did not mean for you to see that." She said bitterly. "I did not mean-"

"He killed my best friend! It doesn't matter what you didn't mean!"

"He was my brother!" The cry was torn from Ziva almost involuntarily. She couldn't believe that she'd said it. She had promised she would not. She bit her lip until she tasted blood and turned away. "And I was there when he was killed." I killed him. Ziva thought it, but didn't voice it. If she had promised to keep her relation to Ari a secret, then the knowledge that she had killed Ari herself was enough to put Abby in incredible danger. Only two other people knew the truth of it.  Gibbs had been there to witness it and her father had heard it from her own lips. His reaction had been cold, icy anger; this was almost worse than that moment had been.

They were engulfed in silence, neither knowing what to say after that. Abby's rapid breathing sounded loud and harsh in the room's sudden hush. Ziva stood opposite her, trembling from her emotions and the unexpected rush of adrenaline. The sound of her cell phone ringing from the other room startled both of them. Ziva ignored it, keeping her eyes fixed on Abby.

"You should answer that."

Ziva knew that she should. The only people that had her cell phone number were the other members of her team. The call would be about work, especially at this hour, but she didn't want to deal with work. She wanted to erase the look of searing hatred and disgust from Abigail's eyes. "Do not go," she tried to make the words a command, but they came out as more of a plea than she had wanted. She held her hand out to Abby entreatingly.

Abby didn't take her hand and instead stepped away from her. Still she folded her arms over her chest stubbornly and didn't make any further move to walk away. "I'll be here."

Ziva let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding and slipped a silk robe off the back of her door as she walked into the living room. She flipped her phone open and answered it curtly as she belted the robe around herself.

"David."

"Officer David," Her father's cool voice sent shivers down Ziva's spine and she tugged the robe tighter around her. She found herself wishing that her service weapon was in her hand, rather than still in her bedroom.

"Director," she replied with equal distance.

"Now is that the proper way to greet your father, little Ziva," he spoke in Hebrew, with a hint of fatherly rebuke.

Ziva ignored the tone, knowing it to be false. Her father never called to simply inquire about her life. It had been years since they had spoken for  anything but official reasons. She wasn't particularly eager to change that and at the moment she was too distracted to care why her father was calling.

"What do you want, Director?" She inquired bluntly in the same language.

"Is this the way that it will always be, Ziva?" She could suddenly hear the exhaustion in his voice. "I have lost-" He bit the sentence off. "I do not wish to lose you, as well."

Part of her, the part of her that had craved his approval since she was a child, melted at the words that he had spoken, but the larger part of her remained suspicious. People didn't change and her father was no exception to that rule. She frowned, drawing a sudden, worrisome conclusion.

"Why the sudden worry?" She asked pointedly. "I am safer here in America than I have been in years."

There was silence, and then. "You know why." His voice was strained, but the explanation didn't ring true to her.

"What is going on?" She demanded, anger flooding through her.

There was a dull click as the line went dead. Ziva resisted the urge to throw her cell phone across the room and headed back to her bedroom. They needed to leave immediately.

She snatched their scattered clothes up quickly as she moved toward the bedroom and dropped them in a pile on the bed.

"Get dressed," she said quickly to Abby. "We have to leave."

Abby must have overheard at least the tone of the conversation because she didn't hesitate, but she did start asking questions. "What's going on?"

Ziva shook her head, wishing fleetingly that she knew sign language. It would make explaining easier and have a much smaller chance of them being overhead.  There was certainly a possibility that her apartment had been bugged. She was seldom home, leaving ample opportunity for anyone to let themselves in and do as they wished. "Not here."

Abby nodded, and remained silent as she pulled her t-shirt on.

Ziva held her pistol in her right hand as she cracked the door into the hallway of her apartment building. Her father's warning - if it had been a warning and not a slip of the tongue - had been vague, but she had not survived for so long as a Mossad agent without employing a certain level of healthy paranoia. She looked around carefully and then stepped into the hall. When she saw that it was clear, she held her hand out to gesture Abby forward.

Abby caught her hand in a loose grip, surprising Ziva with the gesture. Her training and common sense said that she should take her hand back, but she didn't let go of Abby's hand. She was actually more worried about Abby than herself at the moment. Holding her hand would give her a tangible connection to the other woman and immediate assurance of where she was. It would be one less thing for her to worry about. Abby squeezed her hand lightly and Ziva returned the gesture quickly before she started down the hallway.

They needed a car.