DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't speak all the languages I put in here. If I screwed something up, can you forgive me and just act like I didn't? Please? Finally this isn't beta'd. Sorry.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To cirroco[at]gmail.com

Lost, then maybe found, in translation
By Cirroco DeSade


"Hello?" Abby Sciuto answered her cell phone with her usual perky flair.

"Hey, Abby," Timothy McGee answered on the other end of the line.

"Hey Timmy," Abby responded happily. "How are you?"

"I've got a little problem," he replied.

"Yeah?" she prompted.

"You see, Tony and Ziva seem to have gotten into a drinking contest. Now Tony is passed out cold and Ziva is cheerfully drunk," he started. "I should really get Tony back to his place, and was planning on dropping Ziva off at hers, but she refuses."

"Refuses?" she asked, surprised. Usually Ziva was so responsible.

"Yeah, refuses," he sighed. "She says she will make it home fine on her own. Nor, will she stop drinking."

"Okay," Abby drew out the word slowly. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Well," he hesitated, "I had to call somebody to come down here and watch her, make sure she doesn't try to drive away. I tried to get her keys and nearly got a broken finger for my troubles."

"Hmm." The forensic scientist was entirely unsure what to say.

"It was either you or Gibbs," Tim said ominously.

"No, don't call Gibbs!" Abby knew that would lead to disaster for both Ziva and Tony.

"That's what I thought," Tim replied, then Abby heard him say, "Ziva, sit down or I will call Gibbs! No, you don't need another drink." After a pause Tim came back on the line. "And that is the only threat that is working at the moment. God help me, but I can't even get a drop on her when she's stone cold drunk and I'm sober. At least Tony isn't awake to see that."

"Okay, just give me a bit, and I'll come see what I can do, but I doubt she listen to me any better than you."

"You'd be surprised," McGee mumbled.


"When can you arrive?" he covered.

"Where are you?"

Ziva's eyes were closed and she was smirking. She didn't need to see to recognize the person approaching their table. First, she could hear the little tinkles of metal bits, like that of many chains. Then there was that wonderful perfume she'd recognize anywhere. Finally, she heard Timothy McGee muttering very quietly the word "finally."

However, she was not inclined to complain about the presence of Abigail Sciuto on any day of the week. In fact, the evening just got a whole lot brighter in her opinion. She hadn't seen Abby all day.

"Abigail," Ziva drawled slowly, then raised her drink in a salute, "At hama, Ani Rotzah Otach." She regarded Abby with such serious eyes that the forensic scientist had no idea what to make of it. Ziva was just happy to get that off her chest, even if Abby didn't understand her. Every time she saw her like this, in the short little skirts and tiny shirts, her first impulse was to tell her she was hot and she wanted her.

"Uh, okay," Abby replied.

"Hey, I better get Tony off to his place before he drowns in his drool," Tim interrupted. "Will you two be alright for a while?"

"We are fine, are we not Abigail? I will let Abby take me home," Ziva announced.

Tim took in a deep breath and resisted the urge to wish Abby luck. Something had gone seriously weird on Tony and Ziva's surveillance mission and he couldn't quite place why the two agents were acting out of sorts, but they were. He had long ago figured out that Ziva had a thing for the Goth, but there was no way he would ever mention it… to anybody. He liked all his bones intact and his parts sitting in the places they resided right now.

He bent down to pick up Tony from his happy resting place on the table and instead the man slid off the table as if boneless and hit the floor. He woke up indignantly.

"Jeesh probie," Tony slurred, "why'd ya' havta' knock me down?"

"Come on, Tony," Tim replied while tugging on his arm to help haul him up, "let's get you home. I'm driving."

Tony just stood and followed the younger man blindly out of the bar, never even looking back. But the women could hear him speaking drunkenly to McGee. "I must be really drunk. I thought Ziva looked like Abby standing there for a second." Tim turned his head back to give the women with an amused look before opening the door for the two of them.

Abby turned back to look at Ziva and was shocked to find her staring at her.

"At yafa, Ani Ohev Otach," Ziva said with a small smile.

"You remember that I don't speak Hebrew, right?" Abby asked, amused.

"That is a shame," Ziva replied and smirked.

"Uh-huh," Abby said more than a little confused by the odd vibes Ziva was giving off. "Are you ready to go?"

"No," Ziva answered, but laid out a healthy tip for the server. "But for you, I will follow."

Abby just raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you okay?"

"Desde que te conocí te, pienso en ti todo el tiempo," Ziva answered softly as she stood and started to walk out. It was true. She thought about Abby all the time, ever since the day they met and Abby glowered at her, while simultaneously impressing her with her abilities and intelligence.

"What was that?" Abby asked as she trailed behind the younger woman.

"Spanish," Ziva answered with a smirk as she held the door open for Abby.

"Ziva, I don't speak Spanish either," she said with a small laugh.

They started walking down the street towards Abby's hearse. Ziva looked at Abby from behind a veil of curly hair slyly.

"This is unfortunate," Ziva replied smoothly.

Abby looked at the woman she had recently started to begin thinking of as a close friend and decided not to press her… yet. She unlocked the passenger door and held it open for Ziva.

"Toda," Ziva said without much thought. It was too easy to fall back into her mother tongue when drunk.

"No problem," Abby had heard that one between Tony and Ziva enough to get it. Once they got underway, she looked over to see Ziva looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"Hey, what're you thinking?" Abby asked nervously.

"Ani Ohev Otach," she laughed then added "Or if you prefer, Ya tebya l'ubl'u," Ziva answered.

"Uh," Abby said only to be interrupted by Ziva.

"That last one was Russian. Seni seviyorum," she added, in an obvious language change. "Turkish."

"Okay," Abby interrupted, holding her hand up before Ziva could say anymore. "If you don't want to tell me, that's okay."

Ziva sighed, relaxed back into her seat and closed her eyes. The problem was that she did want to tell her. She was just too scared. She had fought terrorists, survived bombings, bullet wounds, knife fights and even held her own in Gibbs bullpen. However, she had found her Achilles heel in a thoroughly original, funny and intelligent woman from Louisiana. The very notion of telling Abby the truth and having her turn her back on her then possibly shutting her out usually kept her from uttering any of her feelings in any language. Yet tonight, she couldn't seem to help herself. She was rambling on in a cowardly fashion in languages she was sure Abby did not know.

A few minutes later, Abby pulled up just slightly down the street from Ziva's brownstone. She deftly parallel parked her massive vehicle and looked at Ziva wondering what she should do for her. She kind of didn't want to leave her here in this bizarre state of mind, but she figured the Israeli wouldn't put up with any coddling.

"Abby," Ziva said softly. She stared straight ahead and seemed deep in thought.

"Yes?" Abby answered slowly.

"Do you trust me?" Ziva asked.

"Of course! With all that I am," she said emphatically. "You should know that."

"I want you to close your eyes," Ziva said firmly.

"Why?" Abby asked a bit baffled. Okay, she may trust her, but she still liked to know the why of things. It seemed especially prudent with a drunken spy-assassin sitting next to her.

"Because I will not be able to tell you this otherwise," Ziva said softly. "Please?"

The last was said with such heartfelt need that it made Abby want to jump across the car and hug the other woman. Instead, she closed her eyes as requested and waited patiently for Ziva's words. She heard movement and realized that Ziva was getting closer. It almost made her open her eyes, but she put the extra effort into it and kept them closed.

"At hama," Ziva said then very softly kissed Abby's cheek near her ear, "means you're hot. At yafa," Ziva kissed her cheek again this time coming closer to Abby's lips, "means you're beautiful." She put her hands delicately around the Goth's head and turned the other woman's head towards her. "Ani Rotzah Otach," Ziva whispered right up against Abby's lips then kissed her slowly, gently, letting Abby decide if she wanted to reject the kiss. "I want you," she said as she pulled away a little.

When she felt Abby's hands thread into her hair and pull her in for a much more heated kiss, she actually whimpered, something she could not recall ever doing in her life. The kiss escalated in passion and lasted until both of them were unable to stand the need for air any longer. When they parted she actually let out a relieved breath and swallowed hard. "Ani Ohev Otach."

"Ani Ohev Otach?" Abby repeated the last phrase in question. She found herself captivated by the passion staring back at her in Ziva's intense brown eyes.

"It means, I love you."

The End

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