Author's Note: Something that popped into my head while listening to J. Buffet on the car radio… Also, my first published fan fic.
She was there behind him every morning when he looked in the mirror, behind him, staring back at him, blaming him. And he blamed himself, right along with her. What the hell had he been thinking, how drunk had he gotten himself to act that irresponsibly? Even DiNozzo had never done anything that reckless, well, at least not that he knewof. Well, he couldn't turn his back on her forever; he'd just have to keep her under wraps and out of sight.
Yeah, right, easy as that.
He couldn't even remember the name of the girl that had led him down that primrose path straight to oblivion. Rosita? Conchita? Hell, it could have been Esmerelda for all he could recall of the event. Didn't remember a thing the next morning. But he'd gotten a huge mother-ass hangover and an equally painful lecture from Franks that night at dinner. That he didremember, and the burger going down in lumps and coming back up the same way.
"WHAT. THE. HELL, PROBIE!" Franks screamed. "You think yer some goddamned eighteen-year-old sailor fer Chrise sakes, what the HELL were you THINKING? There's no un-doing this, you know that yer STUCK with her till the day ya croak! Which with the way you've behave anymore shouldn't be too far in the near future!"
SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP! Gibb's brain was still trying to split through his skull. Tequila. WAY lots of tequila and a pretty girl. Maybe she was pretty. Didn't remember that through his booze goggles, either. Well, he DID still have amnesia back then... Back then, hell, his brain was still tangled knot of dark threads he couldn't sort out.
But Franks had handed him some aspirin and a bottle of water and told him to go jump into the ocean, so he did, letting the warm salt water wash off the sweat and grit and stink of the lost night. But not the girl. The girl was still there, behind him. Right over his shoulder. Damn.
And now two months into being home for good, she as still there haunting him. Well, nothing he could do about it, had to just suck it up and live with his utter brainlessness and stupidity. Wasn't the girl's fault, it took two to tango, after all, and tango he had.
But hell, he could cover it up just like he had pretty much all the other crap and bad judgment calls he'd ever done and made in his life. He was a master at camouflage just like his SFA. Hell, DiNozzo had nothing on him when it came to disguises. Besides, no one needed to know about her except Franks and himself, it was none of their goddamned business no matter what Abby and Tony would tell him. His life, his MOAS.
He took another look at her before walking away and throwing his standard white t-shirt on...wondered what she'd look like when he was really old, and really wrinkly. Only time would tell. He stretched a clean polo over his shoulders. He could DO this. It really wasn't so bad, and maybe someday he'd get so he actually liked her. She was a cutie, he did have to admit. Maybe one day he'd even show her to Abby. After swearing her to secrecy, of course. Yes, Abby would certainly appreciate her. The artist had done a pretty damned good job, and after he'd sobered up enough, he'd investigated the parlor and found it was actually up to code. Well, whatever 'code' was in Mexico these days. He figured he'd just have to hope for the best.