24A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with chapter two! I don't really have much to say other than the fact that NCIS tonight (3/29/11), Tell-All, was amazing! I sat there laughing for at least half of it! great stuff. I won't give anything away, but let's just say that I loved it!
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything affiliated with it. That sole joy belongs to DPB and CBS. I do, however, own this story line and any characters I choose to make up.
-break-
When I got home, the house was empty, go figure. It almost always was. Dad left me money so that I could get food and stuff if he was going to be gone for longer than a few days, which was almost always. Surprisingly enough, it's really easy to get sick of take-out food, so I taught myself some basic things that I could cook: pasta, macaroni and cheese, and grilled cheese. I knew none of my other friends knew how to cook any of this stuff, even though it was basic and pretty easy. They all relied on their parents to do everything for them. Chances are they didn't know how to even work the washing machine.
When dad first started going away, I was thirteen; it was a few years after my mom had died. He'd told me he was going away for the weekend and to be good and he'd see me on Sunday night, Monday at the latest. He hadn't been home until Wednesday and I'd lived off of cereal, toast, and frozen food. That was when I began to hate him. A few weeks later, he left again, this time leaving me some money for food and whatever else. I was careful with it, spending as little as possible, not knowing when he'd be back.
That was how I lived since then. I'd gotten used to the silence, always keeping a radio or TV on when I was home. At first, I'd been scared of the noises the house made and was careful to triple-check all the locks on the doors and windows. Now I checked them once and gave up. There wasn't much to steal here anyway.
Nobody ever knew that I'd been on my own. I never told anyone, never had friends over, instead going to their houses. Their moms would say that I looked too thin and always invited me to stay for dinner. When they'd drop me off at home, I'd just tell them that my dad wasn't home yet and yes, I had my key and not to worry, I'd be fine until then.
When I met the friends that I have now, Kate, Abby, and Tim, I'd told them, completely accidentally, that my dad was never home and I pretty much lived on my own, they didn't think I was a freak. They invited me over when they wanted to hang out and they didn't take pity on me, something I never wanted. Abby told me that she worried about me all the time, but I was alright. I'd held out on telling them for years, but with Ziva, I'd told her after only a few weeks of knowing her. She was definitely different.
I think the main reason I told her was because we were both in situations we couldn't escape from and didn't enjoy. Sure, living on my own had its perks, like not having someone yell at me to do this or that, and it made me stronger, but it had taken my childhood. At thirteen, I was still just a kid, depended on my father to do stuff. But I taught myself how to do everything. I fixed things when they broke. I did really well in school because it would get me into a good college. But there were never any thanks.
I sat down in the living room with a sandwich that I made for myself and turned the TV on. Ziva and I had finished our homework at the library, like we did almost every day, so I didn't have to worry about it. She was the one who had suggested that we do our homework in the library the first day I mentioned that I didn't really want to go home and the tradition stemmed from there. She said she felt the same way so we might as well hang out together and who was I to complain? Ziva was funny, beautiful, and messed up her English a lot and she could have anyone, but she chose me. Abby and Tim would sometimes do homework with us, but mostly it was just the two of us.
In the car this afternoon, I made Ziva promise to call me if her father hit her or did anything and that I'd go pick her up, if only for the day. I couldn't stand the thought of her getting hurt, by her own father nonetheless. I kept my cell phone on me all evening and kept it on loud that night when I went to bed, putting it under the pillow.
-break-
She didn't call, and for that I was grateful. Yes, I wanted to get her out of that house, but he hadn't hurt her, or I assumed he hadn't hurt her because she hadn't called. When I picked her up in the morning, we drove to school holding hands, like we had the afternoon before. I didn't know what changed between the two of us, but it didn't matter.
She let go of my hand, as I knew she would, when we got to school. We walked out of the parking lot together and towards the school and our friends, who we both knew were waiting for us on the second floor by Abby's locker. We hung out for the fifteen minutes before homeroom, Ziva, Abby, Tim, Kate, and I and then Ziva and I walked to our homeroom, which we had together because of our last names, and our friends all walked to their individual homerooms. They were all spread out, though Kate's and Abby's were next to each other.
My first four classes, none of which any of my close friends are in, passed by quickly and then I met Abby in the cafeteria and we put our bags down at our usual table before getting food. By the time we got back, Tim was sitting there waiting. Ziva walked in a few minutes later and sat down next to me and across from Abby, who was sitting as close to Tim as was possible. Everybody thought they were a couple, but they were just really close friends. I wasn't sure Tim was picking up all the hints that Abby was sending his way, but I hoped for his sake that he did soon.
Abby, Tim, and I all had a debate, but Ziva didn't join in like she usually did. Abby noticed and asked her if anything was wrong, but Ziva said she was fine. Her silence killed me for the next ten minutes, so when I had an out, about eight minutes before lunch was supposed to end, I took it.
"Hey, Ziva, I forgot my history book at my house last night. Can I borrow yours?" I asked her. I hadn't even brought my book home last night and Ziva probably knew that, but I needed to talk to her and that was the easiest way.
"Yes, it's in my locker," she said and stood up.
"Sorry to bail early, guys," I said to Abby and Tim, getting up. They said their goodbyes and then went back to the conversation we had been having before.
Ziva had started to walk away and I followed her. Once we were out of the café and were heading up the stairs, I started talking. "Hey, Zee, are you alright? You've been kinda quiet this morning," I said to her, studying her face while simultaneously trying not to fall up or down the stairs.
"Yes, Tony, I am fine," she told me.
"Ziva, this is me you're talking to," I said.
"Yes, I realized that," she said, smiling a little.
"Did he hurt you?" I asked her. I needed to know.
"A little," she confessed. "He came home a bit drunk last night."
I reached out and touched her shoulder. "Why didn't you call me?" I asked her.
"It was late. You would have been asleep. And it was not that bad. It will not bruise horribly," she said.
"Ziva…" I sighed her name. We stopped in the middle of the empty hallway and she turned to look at me. "You promised you'd call. I will always have my phone on me for you. There will never be a time when I'm too busy to come and get you," I told her. "I don't care if it's two thirty in the morning and there's a blizzard outside, I will come."
She hugged me like she had yesterday outside her house and I hugged her back. It felt horrible, feeling useless like this. But I knew I'd find a way to save her.
-break-
A/N: Okay, so, what did you think? Worthy of a review? Should I go on or stop now? Thanks so much for reading guys! If anyone has any suggestions for this or things they wanna see, feel free to leave it in a review or PM me! Thanks guys!
Just so everyone knows, this fic isn't being beta-ed because my beta is a bit busy, so any mistakes are 100% my fault. As hard as I try, I know I still mess up every now and again, but hey, I'm only human, right?