A couple more flashbacks in this chapter. It's also a bit on the angsty side.

Gibbs unlocked his front door and stepped off to the side, allowing Abby and Tony to enter before him. It was difficult for Tony to walk, as Abby had wrapped her arms around his body and wouldn't be pried off with a crowbar.

"Oh Tony! Yay! It's totally official now—you're staying here forever!" Abby squealed. "Well, once the paperwork goes through and all…but we don't have to worry about that Bronis-whatsis guy coming back for you or any more cops busting in here or—oh Tony I'm so happy for you!"

Tony simply hugged her back, grinning.

"Abbs." Gibbs said. He motioned her away from the newest member of the household. Abby pulled off Tony, still beaming. Tony's smile faded as Gibbs beckoned Abby away.

"Get over here, whore."

Tony peered up,watching as Sutton pointed to a spot in front of him. Rachel gave Tony a nervous glance before obediently putting down the laundry they were both folding and obeying her master. Tony watched the guy slap her across the face—his palm cracked over her skin. She yelped and fell to the ground. Tony was at her side in an instant.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He growled at his master. "You can't just hit someone!"

Tony shivered. That was before he knew the rules. Before he knew how slaves were supposed to act. It was one of the first times he was ever denied two day's worth of food. Small mercies, he figured, that the guy didn't do worse to Rachel than slap her. Or so he hoped.

"Abby—" Tony started to speak, but fell silent when Gibbs stepped towards him. He dropped to his knees, staring at the floor, wondering if Gibbs was going to punish him for being affectionate with Abby.

"Tony." Gibbs crouched down, his voice soft. "C'mon, lemme look at your neck. I want to see if those bastards hurt you with that damn collar."

Tony lifted his head, watching with nervous eyes as Gibbs tilted his chin up and looked at the small scratches on his skin. He saw Abby watching them and relaxed. She gave him a little smile and he grinned back.

"Couple scratches. Not bad." He dropped his hands and regarded his newest slave. "I'm not gonna hurt Abby." Gibbs told him. "Not now or ever. Okay?"

Tony nodded and Gibbs stood up, resting a hand on Tony's head, trying not to worry.

"There you are!" Ducky came out of the kitchen. "Goodness—I wake up and no one's in the house." He noticed Tony on the floor and Abby hanging her red leash on the pegboard near the stairs. "Ching-Lan?" He asked.

"Yup." Gibbs said. "She was annoyed, but we can keep Tony now. We just gotta do a case for her." He held his hand out and Tony grabbed it. Gibbs pulled him to his feet.

"Excellent news, my boy. What's the case?"

Gibbs inhaled the sweet scent of coffee drifting from the kitchen.

"We gotta find her sister." Gibbs said, following his nose.

"Easier said than done, I'm sure." Ducky turned to Tony. "Welcome home, Anthony. Officially, this time."

Tony's shirt was still off, and Ducky to a moment to glance at his back. Bronislav's fresh cane marks stood out with livid clarity in the light of day. "Why don't you take a shower and shave and I can put more cream on your back, Anthony?"

"If it would please you, doctor." Tony said dully. That memory had come out of nowhere and was still raging in his mind. What had ever happened to Rachel? He would probably never know.

"It would. Are you hungry?"

"What? Oh, not really, sir." Tony glanced past Ducky into the kitchen where Gibbs was. Abby was in there too. He took a deep breath. What the hell was wrong with him? It was Gibbs and Ducky for pete's sake. People he knew would never harm anyone. Neither one of them was Sutton.

"Maybe we can get some soup in you after your shower." Ducky suggested. He realized he had no idea when Tony ate last. At the very earliest it was late the previous night.

Tony nodded and went slowly up the stairs, exhausted and confused.

"Ching-Lan said she last saw Mei-Lien six months ago." Gibbs, Abby and Ducky were seated around the kitchen table as Tony showered. Abby was typing up notes on the laptop and Gibbs read off the files Ching-Lan had given them. With Tony helping them solve this case, he hoped it would go smoother and faster than if it was just him, Abby and Ducky. While Abby and Ducky were extremely competent at their jobs, they simply weren't investigators. Tony would certainly help, but Gibbs knew the younger man was going to be fighting his slave demons. Abby had battled hers and won, and Gibbs knew they could all help Tony cope with his own. Gibbs turned a file page, keeping one ear on Abby and Ducky talking. Gibbs hoped getting into the once familiar routine of solving and searching would ease Tony into his home and encourage him to open up and relax.

"There's been no sign of her since." Abby finished.

"Who was the last person to see Mei-Lien?" Ducky asked.

"There were two." Gibbs said. "One of Ching-Lan's thugs, Bertram Daljeet. He's dead. And the girl's babysitter, Annabelle Lewis. No one's seen Lewis since the disappearance."

Abby clattered at her computer. "How old is Mei-Lien?"

"Ten, when Ching-Lan last saw her."

Tony peered into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. He stared at the small crowd at the table. Gibbs was hunched over a stack of files, reading them, a pair of wire glasses on his nose. Ducky was reading a different set of files while sipping from a mug of tea and Abby was cross-legged in the kitchen chair, fingers flying over the keyboard. It was so homey and domestic. So very unlike anything he'd seen in the past five years. Abby wasn't tied in the corner nor was she relegated to doing chores. She wasn't even wearing the collar. They all looked like equals, and Tony stared at moment, wishing—hoping that he would be allowed to join. He eyed the dirty dishes in the sink. Maybe he should do those first. Gibbs hadn't said anything about him being allowed to sit with them.

"Ah, Tony." Ducky stood up. "Feel fresh after your shower?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Good. C'mon to my room. I'll reapply the cream and with some food, you'll be right as rain." Ducky took Tony by the elbow to guide him to his bedroom. "This reminds of a time about a year ago, when Gibbs and I…" Ducky's voice faded as he lead Tony away.

"Abby." Gibbs said after a moment. "He say anything to you last night?"

Abby looked away from her computer. "No. Well, he, he said he thought I was dead…"

"Why?"

"He said it was his way of coping." Abby slumped back in her seat, pained. "Jeez, Gibbs…it had to have been so bad for him if he had to convince himself everyone was dead."

"We'll get him through it, Abby."

"I know we will. We all will."

"Yup. He'll be irritating us with movie quotes before you know it."

Abby managed a small smile.

Suddenly there was a thud and a crash and the sound of breaking glass in Ducky's bedroom, followed by a yelp. Gibbs and Abby were on their feet in seconds, rushing towards the sound.

"There, there, Anthony, it's perfectly alright." Ducky's voice soothed.

Tony was huddled on the floor on his knees, his head on the ground and his arms around it protectively as Ducky leaned down beside him, his hand on Tony's shoulder. Gibbs glanced down at the shattered mug on the floor and the soggy tea bag lying amidst the broken pieces.

Ducky glanced up at them in the doorway and shook his head a little, exasperated and sad. "Tony, come on lad. It's fine, it was just a mug. We have plenty more."

"Tony." Gibbs said. At the sound of his voice, Tony tensed and let out a small whimper.

"I'm sorry, boss—er, master." He squeaked. "I was clumsy, and, and—."

Gibbs knelt beside Tony and set his hand on the younger man's head.

"Tony," Gibbs said, keeping his voice low, "I'm not angry at you. Neither of us is. Can you kneel up for me?"

Tony took a deep breath and lifted himself up, still keeping his eyes on the floor.

"I'll clean it up." He whispered. Ducky and Gibbs exchanged worried glances as Tony went to collect the pieces.

That afternoon, Gibbs and Ducky were sitting in the living room with their respective mugs of tea and coffee. Abby was in her bedroom with Tony, trying to prove to him via tarot card reading that he was going to be living with them from now on and that no one would take him away again.

"It's strange," Ducky said sagely, "he's like the old Tony, but not. He still calls you 'boss' sometimes."

Gibbs brought his coffee to his lips.

"He's switching back and forth." Ducky continued. "Almost as if he's mixing a native-spoken language and a new language into one." Ducky mused. "Parts of his old self shine through, but the new part of him, his slave persona, dominates his personality."

"I like DiNozzo's old language better, Duck."

"As do I, but in time Jethro, he'll come around. Abby did. I daresay her compassion and her experiences as a slave will help him cope and emerge from his shell. He already seems perfectly comfortable with her touch and presence and it hasn't even been a full day."

Gibbs gulped his coffee. This was a Tony he had never seen before, and he wasn't sure how to react. Ducky was right about Abby helping him out, but Tony treated him as his…master. The same way that Bronislav idiot was his master or that anyone before him had been a master. If the scene he'd walked into when he got to the henchman's house was anything to go by, Tony'd had a really bad time as a slave. Maybe even worse than Abby's. Tony would need reassurance. Kindness. Gentleness. All the things Gibbs hadn't been too generous with when they worked together. He'd always had a more "spare them and spoil them" attitude towards his team. That would need to change.

Ducky took a sip of his tea. "You should consider collaring him."

"No way."

"For his own safety, Jethro. You know the laws regarding an uncollared slave. They're fair game for anyone to take off the street—"

"No, Duck. It's demeaning."

"You did it for Abby." Ducky said. Gibbs was quiet. True, he had gotten Abby a proper I.D. plate.

"I got her the tag, Duck. And the chips. The collars she wears are her own."

"Without a collar, Tony could be snatched off the street. Do you really want to put him through that again?"

Gibbs's jaw tightened. Collaring another human being, declaring to everyone that they were your slave—your property—that did not sit well with him.

"You didn't see him when I found him." Gibbs said, staring into his mug.

"I saw his wounds when I examined him." Ducky said. "There are some welts on his back from the cane. The skin broke in one spot. The scratches from the choke collar aren't deep, and there wasn't much I could do about the scars already on his back. I rubbed some cream on there, and with regular application, the scars will fade, but they'll never fully heal. And the bruises on his face will look worse before getting better."

"That drunken asshole was using him as a punching bag." Gibbs growled.

"This Tony is different than the Tony we knew. He's been enslaved for nearly five years. He's hurting. He's confused."

Gibbs leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Yeah. I hate that, Duck."

A mumble of voices at the end of the hall interrupted them.

"Come on, Tony."

"Abbs, they're like, relaxing in there. Slaves aren't supposed to—."

"Tony. Stop thinking of Gibbs and Ducky as tyrants that are going to kill us. Friends, remember? Seriously, just go in there and ask."

Gibbs listened carefully, hoping that Abby could convince him to ask whatever it was. He was prepared to say yes to damn near anything Tony would ask for.

"But, Abbs, the last time I asked for food, well…it was bad. I was tied up outside once because I burned a loaf of bread."

Gibbs put his mug down, scrubbing his hands through his hair to keep his rage in check.

"Has Ducky ever hurt you?"

"No."

"Has Gibbs ever hurt you?"

"Well, there were the headslaps…okay! I'll go!" Tony appeared in the living room moments later, looking mildly frightened. Abby's hands were wrapped around his shoulders, propelling him along.

"Good evening, Tony." Ducky said genially. "Abby."

"Hi Ducky." Abby said. Tony had gone rigid and still. Abby gave him a shake.

Tony opened his mouth. "Abby and I, well, we were, uh…"

"Tony!" Abby said.

"." He blurted.

"What?" Gibbs said.

"If that's okay?" Tony winced and looked like he was about to drop to his knees, but Abby held on tightly.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs sighed. "Repeat what you said. Slower."

"Can we…get a pizza?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea." Ducky said. "None of us have eaten dinner, and I imagine, Anthony, you probably haven't had a pizza in ages. Let's see if we can find a local place." Ducky got up and walked towards them and Tony gulped, stiffening as he drew closer to Abby.

Noticing this, Abby leaned up and whispered something into Tony's ear. He nodded and even smiled. She put a quick kiss on his cheek and Tony watched as Ducky offered Abby an arm and escorted her to the kitchen to look up restaurants on the laptop.

Gibbs got up and went over to Tony, pleased when the younger man didn't cower away. He reached forward and tilted Tony's head back, scowling at the small scratches and tiny bruises on his neck.

"Does it hurt?"

"No." Tony whispered.

"Good. How about your back?" Gibbs turned Tony by the shoulder, lifting his shirt, wanting to see the damage Ducky had mentioned. The cane marks were dark pink, slashed angrily across his upper back. Gibbs tightened his grip on the cotton fabric, his jaw clenching at the sight.

"Ducky put some stuff on there." Tony said in a low voice. "They don't hurt, master."

Gibbs dropped the shirt.

"You know you don't have to call me 'master,' Tony. We're all equals in this house."

Tony nodded, staring at the floor. Gibbs wondered how long it would be before Tony could look him in the eye again.

"D'you want that off?" Gibbs asked.

Tony looked up at him, a question in his eyes.

"Bronislav's collar." Gibbs nodded to the dented piece of metal and tiny padlock around Tony's neck. Tony reached up and felt the collar. He bit his lip.

"We can get it off ya. You're not his anymore."

Tony nodded slowly. "I want it off."

"C'mon. Come to the basement." Gibbs turned and flipped the hall light on, pushing open the basement door and jogging down the wooden steps. If he could just get that lock off…some sort of shears or heavy-duty scissors would probably do the trick. It was a small lock, after all. Gibbs opened a drawer in his work table and rooted around, finding a pair of cable cutters. In truth,

He glanced over to where he assumed the younger man would be standing beside him and blinked. Tony was hovering near the top of the stairs, looking down at Gibbs nervously. He eyed the cutters in Gibbs' hand before flicking his gaze around the rest of the room, obviously a little freaked out.

Tony took a deep breath. He wasn't' really a fan of basements anymore. Ever since, well, everything.

"Stubborn ass!" One of Bronislav's paid servants grabbed him by the collar, lashing at his back with a switch she'd yanked off the cherry tree. Once Tony would have fought, but the past four years of slave conditioning had forced him to more or less accept punishment. Fighting back only ever led to worse punishments. He was dragged to the basement and thrown down the concrete steps. Pain seared his side as he slammed into the steps and he heard—felt—a sickening crunch. He was pretty sure he broke a rib in that fall, but it was days until he was allowed a doctor…

Gibbs didn't say a word. He went up the stairs to where Tony was standing.

"You want it off?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"Are you getting rid of me?" Tony blurted.

"Never. Why? Is it because I'm taking off this collar?"

Tony nodded.

"We'll get you a new one. One that you pick. You're living here with us for as long as you want, Tony. Just gettin' rid of the old to make way for the new."

"Do it." Tony said.

Gibbs turned him gently so he could get a better look at the lock. There was a small snip and then the collar fell apart, clanging down to the floor below.

"There." Gibbs said. "Like I said, the next collar that goes there will be the one you choose, DiNozzo. That is, assuming you want to live here?"

"What?" Tony looked at him, aghast, and rubbed his hand over the revealed flesh. "Is the pope Catholic?" He blurted. Gibbs smirked and Tony glanced away, looking at the broken collar on the basement floor, still touching his neck.

"Abby says we're all friends." He said quietly.

"Abby's a smart person. Ducky or I could never—would never—hurt her. Or you. Got it?"

Tony nodded. "Yes, sir—boss."

"You don't need to ask permission from us to shower, or eat, or go outside, or drive, or watch TV. You have questions, you ask any of us, okay?"

Tony nodded again.

"We'll go shopping soon." Gibbs told him.

Tony glanced at him, one brow up, remembering how the older man hated to shop.

"For you." Gibbs clarified. "We can get you some clothes. A TV and DVD player and some movies. I can make you more shelves."

Tony nodded, his voice having fled for the moment.

"I wasn't kidding before." Gibbs said.

Tony lifted his head, meeting Gibbs' eyes for a moment before looking away.

"Before when?"

"When I told Ching-Lan you were irreplaceable." Gibbs brushed his hand over Tony's head and went up into the rest of the house. Tony stood there a moment longer before following his new master.

After they ordered dinner, Tony walked into Gibbs' other bedroom—the one that they were telling him was his now—for the second time and paused. He was so used to not owning anything anymore. Abby's declaration that all of this was now his warmed him down to his bones. Gibbs had even made him a piece of furniture.

"My room." Tony murmured, trying the words on for size. "My room." He ran his hand over the satiny dresser surface. He pulled open a drawer that slid like oil on ice. The scent of fresh wood erupted out at him. Some soft Tshirts rested in one drawer, and a few pairs of socks and other essentials in other drawers.

Tony peered at the smooth dovetails linking the sides of the oak dresser together and smiled. Not a nail in sight. This was Gibbs' precise handiwork for sure.

He spied a stuffed black duffel on the floor in the corner and picked it up. This must be the 'few things' Abby had mentioned retrieving for him. He had no idea how Abby had gotten any of his stuff out of his apartment. He remembered the day of his capture like it was yesterday…

The white-yellow sun beat on his shoulders as he pounded along the asphalt road. He had just mapped a new jogging route, and it was proving to be a smooth, beautiful course. He breathed deep as he ran easily along, glad to find this moment of peace during such a twisted war. The sky was clear and the trees were green. It was easy to forget that all over the world, cities were falling nearly by the hour.

He heard the screech of tires only seconds before the black van cut in front of him. He'd been wearing his iPod and didn't hear the big vehicle even come near. Stupid. Tony startled and was reaching for his knife when the van's door opened and two men wearing some kind of uniform lunged at him. It was hazy after that, but he remembered landing a couple crunching punches before a hard blow nearly knocked him on his ass. A thick gag was pushed between his teeth. A strip of something heavy and light-proof was wrapped over his eyes. His hands were restrained and he was lifted, then thrown into the truck.

He had known that was going to be his last day of freedom, he wouldn't have spent it jogging, new route or not.

Tony sat on the soft mattress and squeezed the swishy duffel fabric. His heart caught in his throat when he saw the NCIS logo blazed in white letters across one side of the bag. He put it on the ground and rested his head in his hands.

Everything was so fucked up right now. Part of him knew that he didn't need to be calling Ducky and Gibbs master. Hell—it was Ducky and Gibbs for God's sake. People he used to work with. People he was, still was, friends with. But that part of him was so small. Lists of chores still ran through his head. Bronislav always had Tony draw him a bath or bring him food in bed on silver trays or make a fire or do any other sort of mundane task. His other masters…best not to think about them.

He couldn't just let go of the past five years now that he was with Gibbs. And he knew they weren't expecting him to. He knew of course that Gibbs would never punish him the way his other masters had. Of course not. Gibbs wasn't prone to violence for no reason. He wouldn't tie Tony up outside or deprive him of food or beat him. Though, Gibbs was a free person, and there weren't very many laws at all that protected slaves. Gibbs could hurt him. So could Ducky. And there would be no consequences and no one to stop them. The cops worked for Ching-Lan and only Ching-Lan. Why would they care if a slave got whipped or starved to death?

He zipped open the bag and stared at his old life. He felt irreparably different from the man whom these things had belonged to, like a childhood version of himself.

Tony wiped his eyes and pulled out a faded OSU Tshirt. He smiled and brought it up to his nose. He breathed deeply and let out a weary sigh. It still smelled like his old apartment. He wondered if the building even still stood. Putting that aside, he rooted around and found a few more shirts, both long and short-sleeved, and some underwear. A couple pairs of jeans were in there, as were a pair of gym shoes. He'd lost weight, and this stuff might be too big on him now, but it would do for a while. He froze when he saw the items in the bottom of the bag.

Smiling softly, he pulled his badge out into the light. He ran his fingers over the words 'Special Agent' and flipped it over to look at his ID. His eyes had been brighter then, and he'd had fewer stress-worn wrinkles. His smile had an ounce of sarcasm and bravado at the corners. He snorted at the short hair on the guy in the picture, compared with his own long locks. He felt the damp strands, deciding he'd like to get them cut, if Gibbs would allow it. Tony flipped the ID shut and looked back into the bag. He grinned when he saw his brown leather shoulder holster nestled beside something else. He frowned and picked it up. A framed photo that Abby had gotten some probie to take one day. They were in front of the elevator—him with his holster and badge, Gibbs with his coffee, Abby in her white lab coat, and Ducky in his aqua scrubs. Tony studied himself once more. He was smiling, and he looked genuinely happy. He hadn't felt as happy as the guy in the photo in a long time. He tugged the next item, a heavy, plastic blue and red object into the light and laughed.

"Mighty Mouse." He murmured to the stapler. He set that on the bed and reached for the last item in the bag. It was a little box of guitar picks. He swallowed, the blood in his chest freezing solid. Had Abby gotten his…? He glanced around the room, not seeing a guitar for the picks. He stood, heart in his throat, and moved to the closet. He pulled open the door and almost cried when he saw the familiar brown leather hard shell case, worn and rough at the edges, resting safely in the empty closet.

"Oh Abby…" he mumbled. He heaved it onto the bed and cracked open the lock clips, smiling stupidly at his maple and mahogany semi acoustic beauty—the only girl he ever truly loved. Though at this moment, Abby was rapidly giving the guitar a run for her money. Tony slid the leather strap comfortably over his shoulder, like easing into a familiar sweatshirt. His hands instantly found their places on the neck and body and he strummed, smiling softly at the dissonance that was five years out of tune. Later. He'd tune it later and get reacquainted when the time felt right. His throat tightened and he made a mental note to buy Abby the world's biggest caffeine drink and give her a giant bear hug as he set it back lovingly in the case, his heart lighter than it had been in years.