Alright Everyone I am a sleep deprived idiot who was trying to make a simple change and ended up hitting the wrong button and deleted every chapter except the first of this story. Nothing new, just me trying to fix something! Sorry!

"SCUITO!"

Abby ducked at the sound of her last name being screamed across the club. No one called her by her last name. No one except her biggest boss, the director of NCIS and she was pretty sure Director Morrow wasn't in Riddle Me This Nightclub. Well...she certainly hoped not.

She glanced around herself before her eyes settled on the bleach blond across the bar. There was no way that was...that was Lottie? What the hell happened? Who was this pink lollipop and where was Abby's best friend?

Abby didn't have much time to react as two stick thin arms wrapped around her neck in a crushing hug.

"Awe Maw Gawsh its Abbay Scuito! I haive mishhed you sho mush girrrrl!"

Abby tried to smile as her so obviously smashed friend but couldn't find the right muscles to work yet. Lottie was...different. Same height, same weight, same features, but something was wrong. Plus there was the obviously disgusting fact that she was wearing a completely matching pink outfit. Even her shoes. Her shoes were pink.

Abby could feel a little bit of her soul shrivel up and die at the sight of the sequined pink shoes.

Lottie was most definitely not Lottie anymore.

Twisting deftly, Abby maneuvered her way out of Lottie's drunken grip to get a better look at her old friend. Just because she was wearing pink and was more than a little drunk, didn't mean she had suddenly become less of a friend than she used to be. Right?

"Hi Lottie!"

Lottie's sloppy grin got bigger. She slung her arm around Abby's shoulders and leaned into her, whispering loudly into her ear.

"Awe maw gawsh Abbay! Let's partay!"

Abby laughed despite the uneasy feeling in her stomach and eased her way onto the dance floor, her tipsy college friend barely hanging on her arm.

NCISncisNCISncis

Gibbs stood in his basement, sanding a rib of his almost boat. It was his fourth now. Four boats, four wives, three divorces. He would rather not think about what that means. Or what means that he never actually removed the last three boats from the basement. He had just broke them apart and started over. Boy a shrink would have a hell of a time with that one.

Gibbs shook off that thought and refocused on the knot he was sanding down. This one he was going to finish. He was sure of it. If only the twisting in his gut would go away. Something was wrong. Or something was going to be. He growled in frustration and tossed his sand paper on the work bench. It skidded across the desk knocking into papers and causing things to crash onto the floor. Gibbs sighed and looked at the mess spread out across his basement. Those stupid files were now carpeting his floor.

He snorted.

Better use for them as a saw dust catcher than anything else.

Morrow was going to be furious.

Gibbs chuckled to himself and poured a glass of bourbon.

At the moment that was not his problem.

He put the glass to his lips but pulled it away before he drank, his gut screaming at him.

He stalked around the basement floor, slamming the rusting jar on the work bench, fuming. Gibbs rubbed his forehead, trying to calm his nerves, looking for the source of his stress. Everything he was leading back to the same conclusion.

Abby.

He moved up the basement stairs and went searching for his phone. Abby always kept her cell with her when she went out and she knew to call him if anything went wrong. He knew he had taught Abby well and she could handle herself well, but he wanted his phone with him.

Just in case.

NCISncisNCISncis

Tony squirmed in his bar stool and stared at the unopened beer. He just couldn't bring himself to drink it. He had turned down Daniel's invitation to dinner with the family, not feeling up to company, but now he didn't feel right drinking his night away. He sighed and pushed away the alcohol, dropping a twenty on the bar.

"Take it easy Marshal."

The middle aged bar tender looked up from the glass he cleaning to see the younger man's retreating figure. His eyes darted to the twenty on the table and the unopened drink.

"Hey Tony! Wait man, this is way too much!"

Tony didn't look back as he pushed open the door.

"Keep it Marshal, consider it my cover for next time."

With that Tony swept out into the street.

Marshal looked at the door swinging closed and shook his head. Tony always paid him over and above. Always had some excuse. Every time. Marshal never said anything about it but he suspected that Tony knew about his son and was doing his small piece to help. He had never told his customers that his son was sick, never told his friends about the hospital bills mounting, threatening to drown his family, but somehow, this man who showed up like clockwork every week knew. And paid extra. Marshal didn't have to know him well to know he was a good man. He never got overly drunk, never caused problems, never had trouble paying, even helped settle fights when they came up. He was friendly with the other customers, provided a listening ear to those trying to drown their sorrows in a bottle, and always had he time to stop ask if Marshal was doing okay, the unspoken question in his eyes. Yeah, he was a good man. Marshal tipped the glass he was cleaning towards the closed door.

"Good on you Tony."

NCISncisNCISncis

Abby stormed out of the nightclub.

Stormed.

She turned the word over in her mind. She liked that one. It fit. Thunder and lightening. Rain and hail. Really ticked off nature. Yeah that fit well cause boy was she ticked!

She began checking off the reasons for her fury as she marched down the street, too distracted to search for a cab.

Three minutes on the dance floor Lottie ditches her for some guy in a sequin shirt. An ugly sequin shirt. It matched her shoes.

A random guy comes hitting on her in a foreign language and doesn't take no for an answer until Abby knees him in the groin. That told him no.

Abby is 'escorted' from the nightclub for causing a 'scene'.

She huffed and scuffed her feet along the edge of the sidewalk. This weekend off was not going like she planned. She should have stayed in D.C. Then she could partied all night in her usual night clubs, bowled with sister Rosita and then dragged Gibbs out of his basement and talked him into taking her into taking her to dinner.

Oh Gibbs.

She smiled as she thought of the crusty marine. Her boss would have approved of her methods. Desperate times.

Abby found herself chuckling as she thought of Mr. I'm Smooth Because I Can Hit on You in Spanish's face when her knee met something it wasn't suppose to. He certainly learned his lesson.

Abby found her steps getting lighter as she walked down the sidewalk and she started thinking about how to salvage her weekend. She could go back to her hotel, gather her things and go back to D.C., catch the end of the night life and spend the rest of two days with her friends. There was no way she was staying here with Lottie, forget that.

Yeah, going home sounded good.

Now she just needed to get back to the hotel.

Abby looked around herself.

Where was the hotel again?

Better question.

Where was she?