22OKAY SO HERE IS THE NEXT CHAPTER! SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN AWHILE. SCHOOL STARTED ON THURSDAY AND I'VE BEEN SWAMPED SINCE. SO I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE. AND WITHOUT FURTHER ADO . . .
Saturday. Finally. Tony awoke to an empty apartment; his quiet, dirty, lonely apartment. He glanced over at the clock; 9:37. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and decided that a cold shower would probably do him some good. As he felt the cold water pelting his back, he tried to clear his head. He tried, but couldn't. His thoughts just kept returning to her; the only woman he ever loved. And he just let her walk out of his life. He had tried to call; no answer. He didn't bother with anything else; she would just shut him out. He knew that no matter what he tried to do, he would fail miserably. She just needs time. In a few days, after she cools down, everything will be fine. He tried to convince himself of this, over and over; he tried to assure himself that everything would turn out fine.
He finally got out of the shower and dressed. As he looked around his apartment, all he could see was empty beer bottles, week old pizza boxes, and trash galore. I might as well. He sighed at that thought. He retrieved a trash bag from underneath his kitchen sink and began to pile it full of trash. The first Saturday I've had off in a month, and I'm cleaning.
Abby sat in her apartment. She was worried. They aren't answering my calls or texts. Their phones are off? They're not home? They made up and everything is okay? He is really upset and doesn't want to talk? She just wants to be alone? She took a deep breath and picked up her cell phone once again. She hit 1 on her speed dial.
"Gibbs."
"I'm worried, Gibbs. Tony and Ziva—,"
"Abs, I know. I told them they could break—,"
"No, Gibbs! Tony is really upset. Like, he won't even answer my calls. He always answers my calls, well you know, unless he is really, really busy or he can't find his phone, which would be really weird because he always knows where his phone is and he always answers me no matter what and he isn't and I'm really worried and—,"
"Abs, slow down."
"Sorry. I . . . I just don't know what to do."
"What would make you think that anything's wrong, Abs? Did he say something?"
"Yesterday, he said that you said that he could leave early. You never let anyone leave early, Gibbs."
"Abs, I told him to get Ziva and go and sort this whole thing out."
"But McGee said that Ziva—,"
"What Abby?"
"He . . . he . . .," she paused, "he said that she looked like she had been crying. And now she won't answer my calls and like I said, just like Tony, she always answers my calls and I am really worried, Gibbs."
"Abs, do you know anything else?"
"Gibbs, I . . . they . . .," she let out a sniffle, "they are my friends and . . . and I don't like seeing them like this Gibbs. Can . . . can . . . can I . . ."
"My door's always open, Abs."
"Thanks."
"I'm always here for you Abs. Anytime."
"Okay. I guess I'll see you on Monday. Night."
"Goodnight, Abby."
She hung up just as the rain began to pick up once more. She just wanted her friends to work everything out. They were all one big, dysfunctional family, that she loved and nobody likes it when family fights. Now, after talking to Gibbs, she felt a little better. She stared out her window, watching the rain. She was worried; worried that things would never be the same, that things wouldn't change; that things would stay this way forever; that they won't fix this; that they won't realize what they're throwing away; that she won't realize how much she hurt him; that he will just let her be; that he won't chase after the only thing that's ever mattered; that she will just shut him out; that she will just try to find someone else; that he will never move on; that he will not be himself; that she will not be herself; that she, herself, would loose her closest friends; that they will just ignore the facts that stare them right in the face. She couldn't bare that thought: we are all alone; we will all be alone, unless we read the facts and face it: our destiny.
McGee was also taking this hard. He didn't know why exactly but he just knew that if they didn't fix things; that if they stayed this way forever, well, it wouldn't be pretty. He had been looming over his typewriter for the past few hours, waiting for a plot to spark. The pitter-patter of the rain against the window of his apartment was soothing in a way. Just as an idea had come to his head, there was a light knock at the door. He glanced down at the clock on his desk: 1:23. He got up reluctantly and padded over to his door. He opened the door to find a rain-soaked and very worried looking Abby.
"Abs, what are you doing? It's almost 2 in the morning. And why are you soaking wet?" Abby let out a slight chuckle. "Well, Timmy, if you hadn't noticed, it's raining outside. Can . . . can . . . can I come in?" She said with a sniffle. "Uh, yeah, come on in." As McGee let her in, he noticed that her eyes were red rimmed; puffy even. "Hey, um, I'll be right back." McGee said as he ducked into his bedroom and emerged with a towel in hand. "Here," he said as he wrapped the towel around the Goth's rain soaked shoulders, "Sit down." "Thanks. Umm . . . McGee?" She turned around to find him hunched over his typewriter, removing a page from it and inserting it into the shredder. He looked up, "You couldn't sleep either, huh." "Nope. Have you . . . talked to Tony? He . . . he won't answer my calls and . . . McGee, he always answers my calls. What . . . why is he not answering me?" Her eyes began to water once more. McGee had never seen her like this. He put his arms around her and pulled her in as if she would fall if he let go. "Abs, shhh . . . everything will be fine. I'm sure he has a good reason. Maybe . . . maybe they worked everything out." Abby rested her head on his chest and returned the embrace. "But . . . what if they never do? What if they are mad at each other forever?" Her silent tears began to seep through McGee's shirt. "Abby, look at me." He looked down to see her looking at him, her eyes filled with sadness and worry. "Everything will be fine; everything will work itself out eventually. Trust me." "But, but . . . what if Tony is never himself again? I just want my Tony back; the one who makes a movie reference to everything and jokes around all the time. Not this bummed out, 'I don't give a crap about life anymore' Tony." McGee was worried, too. "Abby, trust me. Everything will be fine. Now it's late—," "Can I stay with you tonight, Timmy? I really don't want to be alone. Just . . . just because I'm upset and worried and I don't know what's going to happen with Tony and Ziva and—," "Yeah, Abby, I don't want to be alone either. Come on, you need your sleep and so do I." She gave him a questioning look. "Really? Well, thank you, McGee. It's nice to have someone who will still talk to you." She leaned up and cupped one cheek with her hand and kissed the other. She gave him a quick hug and then she caught his gaze. "Hey, umm . . . you want to put something dry on," he asked, "I mean, I have some sweats you could borrow if you want, I just want you to be comfortable and all." Now, all she could do was stare. "What Abs, do I have something in my teeth or something," he said chuckling a little. This broke her from her gaze. "Um . . . no its just that you . . . you are so sweet, that's all. Yes, Tim, it would be nice to get out of these wet clothes."
Ziva reluctantly set her book down as the microwave began to beep. She padded into the kitchen of her small apartment, retrieved a tea bag from the cabinet, and set it in the boiling water. She leaned against the counter as she took a sip of her Jasmine tea. The rain had stopped for awhile and the moon now shown brightly through her window. She glanced at the clock, wondering how late it was. 3:29. She yawned and wondered back over to her couch and her book. She had tried to sleep, but couldn't. She couldn't stop thinking about him; no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't. She knew that if they did this, then one of them would get hurt; with their jobs, the dangers they encountered everyday . . . it just wasn't worth the risk; she couldn't risk loosing the only man she had ever loved. Gibbs would have her head even if they went ahead with it. She had been asking herself ever since they returned from Paris if it was a risk worth taking; she had been debating with herself; yes, no, yes, no; all the same battle in her head. She had finally gotten sick of it. She knew what she had to do; she did it. She told him no; that she couldn't go through with it. Now, reflecting over the past week, she realized that it was for the best and that she just needed to move on; the past is the past. She set her tea down on the side table and retreated to her bedroom; she needed the sleep. Thank god SecNav let us have the weekend off. As she pulled the covers back and slipped in, she remembered the look on his face; the look he gave her when she told him no; the look of rejection, heartbreak, and despair. She had seen that look in his eyes before, but it didn't seem real the last time. Last time, it was just a girl; an assignment; a case; his job; his orders. This time, it was her; a woman; a woman he truly loved; a choice; true feelings; the truth. Now she was worried; worried that she had really hurt him; worried that he would never be the same; worried that, on Monday morning, he would just look at her the same way the did in the elevator when she left him; worried that she couldn't take it; worried that he didn't understand; worried that he would worry about her; her safety; her life; worried that he would do anything to save her; worried that he would let his feelings cloud his judgment; worried that he would never speak to her again; that he would ignore her; that he would just act like everything was ok; that he was fine. She couldn't bare to think how he felt; what he felt; it had hurt her to say that she couldn't do this; that she just left him there, alone. She couldn't walk in on Monday and act as if everything was okay; she knew that. She also knew that she needed to talk to him; that it couldn't wait til morning; she knew that it had to happen; sooner better than later. As she reached for her phone, there was a knock at her door. Her mind began racing. For it was almost four in the morning, and it was raining like . . . oh what is it . . . cats and dogs? Yes, raining like cats and dogs. Who would be at her door? She stood up and walked toward the door, gun in hand, just to be safe. The person on the other side of the door knocked once more. She gasped as she opened the door to find the one person she did not expect to see.