A/N: Well, I guess I kind of know where I'm taking this now. All you need to know about the previous chapter is that Abby had a bad day, tried to blame ot on everyone else, and ended up having an emotional breakdown and cutting herself. I'm sorry to my loyal readers, I've been busy lately.

December 17, 2004

Abby wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. She opened the door and tossed her purse and keys onto the counter, the alcohol flowing through her veins. She giggled as she kicked her shoes off her feet and nearly fell flat on her ass. Somewhere, amidst all the nonsensical thoughts rushing and spiraling through her head, she managed to remember to lock the door behind her.

She turned on the light in the kitchen, instantly making her head throb. She suppressed another giggle and a sob as she reached for her bottle of ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. As she shook three out and swallowed them dry, she pulled the orange juice out of the fridge. She had been drunk before, and knew that vitamin C was best for getting rid of hangovers before they ever started. She poured a tall glass of orange juice, grabbed a banana and headed for the living room.

Setting down her 'cure', she turned on the light, but only at about half its full power. She sat on the couch and pointedly ate the banana and drank the juice, making herself stay awake, though her eyes were begging to close for just two minutes. She knew better. If she let them close for long, she'd be snoring on the couch all night, and for part of the next day. It had been a mistake to get drunk on a work-night, and she had obviously not been thinking.

Instead, she had gone to her favourite bar, intending on just getting some wings for dinner. But as she sat, happily eating her hot wings, someone had bought her a drink. Who didn't matter, especially since she couldn't remember anyway. Despite her misgivings, she had downed it and he had bought her another one. And then at least one more that she remembered, but she knew it had to be more. After all, it took more than three drinks to get her drunk. She remembered laughing, and joking around with him, and thinking what a nice guy he was.

Or, well, he had been nice until he had tried to come onto her. She had shoved him away, maybe a bit too hard. As she stormed out of the bar, she knew she shouldn't have come. Or if she really had to have those hot wings, she should have had them to go. And if all people who drank beer had breath as bad as the asshole from Hell that she had met, she was never going to drink it again. Ever.

A loud ringing woke Abby up. She shook her head and hurriedly picked up the phone as she cursed herself for falling asleep.

"Hello?"

"Hello yourself… Where were you?"

Abby slapped herself. She had promised Kate that they'd go for dinner together after work. "Kate, I'm sorry… I just had a bad day, and I didn't want to go anywhere."

"But you went for wings?"

"I- Okay, fine, I forgot. But I did have a bad day."

"So bad that you couldn't even call and tell me you weren't coming? I got stuck with Tony, who didn't believe I was waiting for you."

"What's so bad about hanging with Tony?"

"Nothing, unless he's got a girlfriend there who's obviously just interested in getting into his pants and getting rid of me."

"Oh… Kate, I-"

"No, it's fine Abby. I'm just going to go to bed. You're not the only one who had a bad day, you know." Kate hung up the phone without waiting for an answer.

Abby hung up the phone, a little harder than was really necessary. She picked her empty glass up and tossed her banana peel into it. She took the glass to the sink without bothering to take out the peel, though it would stink in the morning and she would regret it. As this thought ran through her mind, she couldn't help thinking that it wasn't the only thing she would regret in the morning.

She went upstairs and into her bathroom to brush her teeth. Her head was still throbbing. There was one last thing that usually helped when she was drunk. It only worked if she was drunk because she was mad at herself though. After she finished brushing her teeth, she reached up to the top shelf of the dual mirror and cabinet, her shirt rising up ever so slightly and making her belly cold.

She pulled down the dreaded box, knowing she shouldn't do it, but knowing that she wasn't able to help herself. Not even two months ago, she had opened the door back up, and ever since she had constantly thought about the silver blades. It was always at the back of her mind, and on bad days it took every ounce of will power she had not to do it. But if she was drunk and had a bad day? There was no question about what she would come home and do.

This time, unlike last time, Abby fully intended to make herself bleed. Not for her, of course, because that would be completely and utterly selfish. No, she was going to bleed for all the pain she had caused others, warped though it would sound to a sober mind other than her own.

Abby settled purposefully in front of her bathtub. She picked a razor out of the box and held it steadily against her skin. She held it there, unwavering, for a minute, before dragging it heavily against her body. The blood ran down her arm and into the tub. She ran some water over it, thinning the blood, but also making a bit more than was really necessary come out of the open wound.

She slid the blade over her arms, first the right one, followed effortlessly by the left. After a slight pause, she took off her shirt and dragged the now-crimson blade across her abdomen, just for good measure. The blood ran down her body, the red lines contrasting heavily with her ghostly pale skin.

She undressed fully and decided to take a shower. The hot water running over her battered and worn body, coupled with the blood still flowing mildly down her side, helped to kill the pain. She stood under the scalding hot water for at least half an hour, before reluctantly turning off the water and getting out.

As Abby settled into her bed that night, she knew she would regret many things in the morning. She would regret the banana in the sink. She would regret going to her favourite bar and consequently getting drunk. She would regret not going to dinner with Kate. She would regret possibly loosing her best friend. She would regret the pain she had caused others. She would regret ever agreeing, or being forced to agree, to Gibbs' plan. These were only the forerunners of her regrets, though there were inevitably more that she would wake up with.

Perhaps the only things Abby wouldn't be regretting in the morning would be the sight of the blood running down her body, and the subsequent slight ache of her arms and stomach in the morning.