Tony woke again, still feeling tired and irritated. He opened his eyes and lifted his head off the extremely hard pillow Kate had chosen to give him.

'Just because she's decided to be a Nun doesn't mean we all have live like that!' he thought to himself.

Wiping his eyes, he looked round, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes.

After a moment he realised two things.

One - he was in a bar.

And two - he really was seeing in black and white.

Tony looked down and saw he was sitting on a well padded bar stool. He hadn't been resting on a pillow at all, but slumped over on the bar itself.

He got off the barstool and stood up, stretching to try and loosen the knot his muscles seemed to have tied themselves in.

"Not a good sleeping position, Tony," he told himself, "and what exactly is this with the black and white thing?!"

The scene around him told him that a damn good party had been had the previous night, which was a pity because Tony had no memory of anything but falling through a roof and then being on a South Sea island with Kate, dressed as a Nun. Kate that was, not him.

And those faded fatigues really hadn't been flattering...

He started and looked down at what he was wearing, then grinned widely.

"Niiiiice!" he said, taking in a classic tuxedo, untied bow tie and patent shoes. He tugged at his trouser leg, just to prove that he was wearing the right black socks. After all it would be fashion suicide to wear anything but black socks with this outfit.

Having satisfied himself that he was properly attired, that he was not suffering from a hangover and that he was in a bar, Tony decided that it was time to check out exactly where this place was.

He made his way to the main door, noting the empty and half-empty glasses, the air smelling of long extinguished cigars and cigarettes and the dated décor.

The air was also slightly warmer than was totally comfortable for his clothing, and the atmosphere was only getting closer.

He opened the door carefully and a wall of heat hit him, making him raise his hands to his eyes to protect them from the blistering sun that nearly blinded him.

Outside was some sort of market. Only this market wasn't like the fashionable arts and crafts markets he had toured with various girlfriends in Virginia.

For a start there were Bedouin. And Camels. And women in full Arab dress.

The part of his brain that was trying to make sense of this nudged him to ask 'Has anyone done a threat assessment of this place?'.

He pushed this aside as another part of his brain was leaping up and down, desperately trying to tell him that this place was familiar, and if he just thought for a couple of seconds he'd know exactly where he was.

Just then a white woman hove into view, her hair pulled up under a neat hat, and her body encased in a suit that Tony imagined his grandmother might have worn in her youth.

The woman was carrying a small dark handbag and shading herself from the glaring heat with a parasol, as she made her way through the market, sidestepping loose chickens and ignoring market traders.

She was quite clearly making her way towards the bar.

Tony opened the door wider and stepped out onto the rough flagstones that appeared to act as some sort of patio.

The woman looked up as she heard his footsteps on the stone and raised a gloved hand to her mouth in shocked surprise.

Tony was equally startled when he saw who it was.

"Abby?!!!"

"Rick?" she gasped and stepped closer to him, her eyes full of tears.

Tony reached for her hand, but she withdrew it and lowered her eyes again.

"Rick, we must speak inside. I can't be seen here with you."

She side stepped him and walked into the bar, lowering the parasol as she walked through the doors.

Tony spun round and marched after her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, taking in her outfit.

Abby took long pins out of the hat and Tony saw her black hair was rolled up in a complicated up do.

"Rick, I had to come." She spoke with a slightly French accent, softly, to him.

Tony led her to a table and they sat down opposite each other.

"Why? Why did you have to come? Is Gibbs with you?"

"No! No one is with me! I, I just had to tell you, we have managed to get exit visas."

"Exit visas for where?"

"For the flight tonight. I am leaving," she paused, dropping her eyes again, "We are leaving."

"Whose 'we'? What's going on?"

"Rick - listen to me! You know whom I mean. I am leaving tonight, for America. With Lazlo." She raised eyes, shining with tears to meet his and reached for his hand.

And it was at that point Tony knew exactly where he was.

"I understand, sweetheart," he said, effortlessly slipping into his best Bogart impression, "You gotta go, so go."

"Rick, will you ever forgive me about Paris? I have to know, after all, we may never see each other again after tonight..."

"What's to forgive, Ilsa? We're living in a world gone mad," Tony leant back in his chair and stood up.

Abby gathered her bag and parasol up and stood facing him.

"You know how I feel, Rick, I think we both know, but the world doesn't have any time left for us now."

She took an uncertain step to him and caressed his cheek.

A stray tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. Tony reached up and caught it on his finger.

They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like a lifetime, but was over in a heartbeat.

Abby broke the stare first, and as she walked across the scuffed dance floor, Tony called to her.

"We'll always have Paris...!"

Abby paused and smiled over her shoulder at him. Then she pushed the door open, snapped her parasol open and walked out into the sunshine - and out of his life forever.

Tony allowed himself a grin.

"I'm Rick!" he told himself, "And this is my joint! How cool is this?!"

He turned round and saw a man sitting at the upright piano to one side of the dance floor.

Tony walked up to the instrument and, to not much surprise, he realised it was Ducky, his hands playing lightly up and down the keys.

"Rick?"

"Duck, er, Sam."

"Can I play something for you? Perhaps a piece by Mozart? Or Beethoven?" Ducky offered.

"No, Sam, you know what I want to hear."

Ducky's hands stumbled over a chord, "No, I don't."

"You played it for her, " Tony told him, indicating the door, "you can play it for me!"

"I don't think I can remember it, Rick," Ducky told him, clearly stalling.

"If she can stand it, I can! Play it!" Tony told him, thoroughly enjoying this matchless opportunity.

Ducky took a deep breath, and started to sing.

"You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, the fundamental things apply as.."

"Time goes by.." crooned Tony.

And then he blacked out.